


Hostage

by RosieRaven



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Renaissance, Arranged Marriage, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2015-11-25
Packaged: 2018-02-21 16:10:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 30,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2474312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosieRaven/pseuds/RosieRaven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"They took him away from his family and are holding him at our court to guarantee their good behaviour. Now, on top of that, they're going to force him to get married." Marco poured the rest of the wine bottle into his glass in resignation.  "He's going to hate me."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

Nile, King of the kingdom of Sina, wearily rubbed the bridge of his nose. He'd been in private conference with King Erwin's emissary going over the peace treaty for hours now. His first few months of kingship were turning out to be far more difficult than he had ever thought they would be.  Their two countries had fought a short but violent war over the past year. After a disastrous battle resulting in the death of Nile's father, the former king, he had been forced to surrender.

His father had started this war, but Nile was the one who had to pay for it. The terms of the treaty were harsh. Shiganshina would take a large portion of Sina's treasury, and any goods crossing the border would be heavily taxed. It would take years for his kingdom to recover from this defeat.

Emissary Hanji pushed their glasses up their nose, "And here you will see we have one final condition. We require a hostage of royal blood to return to Shiganshina with us."

Nile was dismayed but not surprised. A hostage would ensure lasting peace, though he wouldn't have the resources to go to war again for years. No doubt they would ask for one of his children; he was a father of three, and his consort was expecting another. He would have to try and dissuade them from taking his oldest.

"The crown prince cannot go, perhaps one of his sisters-"

Hanji cut him off, "The hostage will be Prince Jean."

Nile raised his eyebrows, "Jean? He’s only my nephew," he said dismissively, "Surely King Erwin wouldn't want him."

"He's the only child of your late sister," the Emissary continued, "It is no secret you were fond of her."

Nile's sister had died a little more than eighteen years ago and Jean was all he had left of her. She and Nile had been close, he'd held her hand while she died of a fever after giving birth to her first and only child. He had made a solemn promise to protect her son. 

"I cannot give him over," he said firmly.

"This point is non-negotiable. I have direct orders from the King."

"Let me see that," Nile lifted the page and blanched at what he read. The treaty stipulated that if he broke any of the terms, his nephew's  _life_ would be forfeit. No wonder Erwin didn't want a young child for a hostage. 

"No!" he shouted, "Absolutely not! I made a deathbed promise to keep the boy safe! I will not go back on my word!" 

"And he _will_ be safe," Hanji reasoned calmly, "As long as you and your countrymen abide by the treaty, no harm will come to him. Your promise will remain intact.” Hanji slid the stack of documents across the desk for his signature.

Nile hesitated, but had no choice. His capital city was crawling with Erwin’s soldiers. If he didn't hand his nephew over peaceably, they would simply take him by force.

"Erwin can go bugger himself," he swore as he jammed his pen into the inkwell and scrawled his signature on the treaty.

 

* * *

Jean woke with a start as the wheels of his carriage hit a bump.  The late spring rains always turned the roads into a muddy mess. He groaned and rubbed his eyes with exhaustion. They'd kept him in this God forsaken rattling box for three days now. He and his escort only made brief stops to change horses and guards before continuing on the road north to Shiganshina. 

Though Emissary Hanji continued to use the word 'guest', he knew that in reality he was little better than a prisoner. The day after his uncle signed the treaty he had been allowed a few brief goodbyes as his servants hastily packed his most precious belongings into a single trunk, and then he had been packed into the carriage before the sun was even up. All his servants, friends, and family were left behind and he had no idea if he would ever see them again.

Jean pulled back the curtain to peer out of the rain spattered window. At first he had been consumed with the need to escape, but he’d come to realize it was hopeless. An escort of knights surrounded the carriage and the doors were locked from the outside. Besides, even if he did manage to escape back to Sina, Uncle Nile would be forced to hand him back over immediately.

Time alone in the carriage only gave him time to think, which only served to make him more anxious. The King of Shiganshina was known for being an elegant, but ruthless man. Jean knew he wouldn't hesitate to have him executed if his family broke the treaty.

Jean's breath started to come faster and he squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to be calm. He was torn between outrage at his treatment, and fear of what would happen when they reached their destination. He wanted to scream and cry and beat on the doors until his fists bled, but he would only humiliate himself that way. He was a prince. he would _not_ let them see him weak.

* * *

They reached the capital three days later, just as the sun came over the horizon. Shinganshina was a bustling city by a wide river. Houses spilled outside the gates of the thick wall that ran around it and even though it was early in the day, the streets were crowded with people.

The castle itself was an intimidating sight. It was certainly not a pleasure palace, like Jean was accustomed to, with wide glass windows and sprawling gardens. It was more like a fortress, with high walls, thick towers, and narrow windows. Colorful silk banners in blue and white, the colors of the Shinganshina royal family, fluttered from every tower and their badge of crossed wings was everywhere. Jean steeled himself as the carriage rolled over the drawbridge and the portcullis clanked shut behind them.

The carriage finally came to a stop and Jean blinked as a guard pulled open the door. As Emissary Hanji swung down from their horse, a slim young man with blonde hair stepped forward and they greeted each other warmly. As he and Hanji whispered together, Jean turned to look around the yard. There was hardly anyone present, and he realized that he had been brought to a side entrance instead of the main gates. He turned as the blonde man stepped forward and Hanji held out an arm to present him.

"Your Highness, this is Master Armin Arlert. He is one of the royal stewards here. He will show you to your rooms and see to your needs."

Master Arlert executed a perfect bow and then gestured, "This way your Highness."

Jean couldn't completely hide his weariness as he followed. After six days of sleeping in a jostling carriage he felt like hell.

They ascended a flight of stairs, then continued on down a carpeted hallway to a stout wooden door. Master Arlet threw it open and gestured inside. There was a small sitting room with a desk and a few plush chairs gathered around a stone fireplace. A bookcase ran along one wall and narrow windows looked down on an inner courtyard with a decorative fountain in the center. Through a door to the left was small bedchamber, and off of that a bathing room with a porcelain clawfoot tub. Jean frowned at his small quarters. He ground his teeth, resisting the urge to give in to his temper. He may be here against his will, but he'd be damned if he let them forget who he was. He turned to the steward disdainfully.

"Well I suppose this will have to do," he sniffed as he pulled off his gloves. "First of all I require a hot bath drawn, and my clothing unpacked and aired. Also It's been days since I've had a proper meal. I'll take whatever can be ready quickest."

It was refreshing to see the steward's impeccable calm thrown as Jean thrust his gloves into the young man's hands.

"You're meant to see the King first your Highness," Arlert said politely.

Jean narrowed his eyes, "Do I look like I'm in a proper state to see the King? Do you think he would be _glad_ to have you bring me into his presence covered in _dirt_?” Jean drew himself up to his full height and lifted his chin, “I expect to have a bath, a proper meal, and a change of clothes before I see his Majesty, and I daresay _he_ expects it too."

Master Arlert ducked his head and left the room in a hurry, which left Jean feeling rather satisfied with himself. In good time, he was sinking into pleasantly hot water while servants bustled about his bedroom unpacking his clothing and cleaning his boots.

After scrubbing the dirt from his body and eating his first hot meal in a weak, Jean felt much more like himself. He could have kissed the steward for also bringing a pot of coffee- it was good to know they weren't _utter_ barbarians here in the North. He put on his least wrinkled shirt, his dark blue jacket with the gold trim, and knotted a cravat around his neck. He carefully set his gold coronet on his head, and after a final inspection in the mirror he signaled that he was ready.

An usher lead Jean to the audience chamber, which turned out to be a small but opulent room for the King's private meetings.

The King’s appearance left Jean in momentary awe; King Erwin was a tall handsome man, with light blonde hair and sharp blue eyes. His coat was made of golden cloth and expensive lace spilled from the wrists of his coat. He wore no crown, but you would have to be both blind and an idiot to mistake him for anyone but the King. He sat in the room's only chair on a raised dias.

Coming back to himself, Jean made the exact correct bow for a prince to give a foreign monarch, and not an inch lower, "Your Majesty."

The King nodded his head in acknowledgement. "Your Highness, we welcome you to our court."

Jean straightened from his bow and fixed his stare at the wall behind the King.  He had been so distracted by the monarch that he hadn't noticed the small dark haired man standing behind him until now. His clothes were well made but plain, and he wore a sword on his hip. Jean could tell by the way he stood that the man was no stranger to swordplay and pegged him for a bodyguard.

"You understand your position here I trust," the King continued.

"Yes, Your Majesty," he replied in a tone of forced politeness.

"How do you find your chambers?"

Jean was slowly but surely losing the ability to remain polite."Adequate," he answered tersely. The man standing to the side of the throne snorted. Whether it was in disdain, or to suppress amusement, Jean couldn't tell.

Erwin's eyes flicked to the side in what might have been annoyance before continuing. "If you have any needs, inform Master Arlert and he will see to them." The King rose from his chair and straightened his coat, "For now you will remain here at court. I should not need to remind you that your position here is delicate. Any visitors you receive must have royal permission. You may send letters if you wish, but I wouldn't bother to seal them if I were you. My staff will read all your outgoing and incoming correspondence.  Also, you will be required to attend the occasional social function, during which time I expect your behavior to be impeccable."

Jean could feel his cheeks burn red with anger. _So this was the way they were going to treat him? Like a foolish child?_   He remained silent, knowing that if he opened his mouth the words that came out would be _far_ from civil.

If the King noticed his anger, it didn't reflect in his cool, impassive face. "You have had a long journey. I imagine you must be tired. You have my leave to go."

* * *

 

After Erwin dismissed him, the red faced young man gave another painstakingly correct bow before turning his back and striding out of the room.  After the door closed, Erwin rubbed his chin and sighed. He had expected a brief meeting with a frightened travel worn boy. A boy who would be easy to intimidate and would cause no trouble, but it was clear now that was not to be.

"Well this will be _interesting_ ," Captain Levi grumbled, strait to the point as usual.

Erwin couldn't help but admire the young Prince slightly. "He's proud, and he's certainly not going to make this easy."

They retreated to Erwin's private office behind the audience chamber. 

"Hanji says he has a temper," Levi said, "He pitched quite the fit when they told him he would be coming here."

"Perhaps it's best we hold off introducing him to my nephew for the time being," Erwin mused dryly as he slid into the plush chair behind his large wooden desk.

"Shit, he and Eren will be at each other's throats in an instant. Keeping him here is going to be disastrous," Levi grumbled, "I'm putting Annie in charge of his personal guard. If anyone can keep him him in line it's her. Is it too late to send him back?"

"It was the right choice," Erwin said cooly. He pulled a clean sheet of paper in front of him and dipped his pen in ink, "We just need to adjust the plan slightly, and I already think I already know how. Fetch Hanji will you?"

* * *

 

Marco Bodt, Duke of Jinae, was busy reading in the study of his castle in the Northern Shinganshina countryside when his younger sister Bianca burst into the room. The seven year old girl was gasping with excitement and pointing.

"There's a horseman coming! Up the road from the capital!"

He smiled at her exuberance, "Well then," he said, setting his pen down carefully, "I suppose we'll have to go see who it is."

He groaned as he stood, leaning back to stretch his spine. The sun was much further down in the sky than he'd thought and he hoped he hadn't worked through dinner again. He let Bianca take his hand and lead him down to the yard. By the time they got there, the horseman had come in through the gate and dismounted. Marco smiled when he saw a familiar blond head of hair.

"Armin!"

Marco quickly hugged the small man before he could try to bow, or call him 'your grace'. Armin might be a commoner, but he was utterly brilliant and they'd been friends ever since they met at the Royal University. Marco hadn't seen him at all since he had left court a year ago. After his mother had died and he inherited the title, he had returned to the family estate to look over the land and be with his younger siblings.

"Are you here on business or for a visit?" Marco asked.

Armin hesitated for a moment before smiling, "I don't see why it can't be both.”

Marco knew if the news were urgent Armin would insist on sharing it right away, so he let it go for now.  "Well come inside, you must be tired."

* * *

 

Later that night, after dinner, Marco and Armin shared a bottle of wine in Marco's study.

"The country has been treating you well it seems," Armin said, "Do you miss court?"

"I do miss all of you. Though I am getting a lot more research done without all the distractions."

"Has it been hard managing everything?" Armin asked quietly.

Marco sighed and pushed his hair back. "I'm still trying to get everything back in order with the estate. Mother spent all her time with the army, and I was at court so there wasn't really anyone here looking after things. I've been meaning to fix things up more but I suppose I've been distracted."

"I can't blame you for reading all day when you have a library like this," Armin said, gesturing with his glass at the shelves of books.

"As good as it is to see you," Marco sighed, "I know that Hanji wouldn't let you leave the capitol just to visit a friend."

"I have a letter... from the King," Armin admitted, after taking a slow sip from his wineglass.

Marco sighed again, news from his royal cousin was rarely a good thing. Armin handed him the letter but Marco set it to the side instead of opening it. "What does it say?"

Armin toyed with his glass, "The King has chosen a husband for you."

" _Husband_?" Marco said in surprise, "Well, at least he knows my preference."

Marco was grateful that he had younger siblings to inherit and didn't have to worry about producing an heir. He knew that because of his relation to the royal family his marriage would be arrainged. Now that the war was over, no doubt the King planned to reward someone with a bond to the royal family through matrimony.

"Well," he said with resignation, "Spit it out Armin, who is it?"

With a completely straight face Armin said, "Prince Jean Kirschstein of Sina."

Marco almost spat his wine out in laughter but his eyes widened in shock at the seriousness in Armin's face. "I would ask you if you're joking but, I can see that you're not. How the hell did this even come about."

Armin explained Jean's status as a hostage, and the need to get him away from the court.

"Could be worse," Armin finished,  "at least he's handsome, and from what Hanji was able to find out he _does_ prefer men. Though he is an utter brat."

"Can you blame him?" Marco asked, "They took him away from his family and are holding him at our court to guarantee their good behaviour. Now, on top of that, they're going to force him to get married."

Marco poured the rest of the wine bottle into his glass in resignation.  "He's going to _hate_ me."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Not sure what to really call this AU - faux historical since it's not any actual real place or time IDK?  
> \- As you've seen, some people who aren't related in cannon are related in this fic... because plot  
> \- There will be side pairings, I'll tag them as they come up.  
> \- The rating will go up in subsequent chapters  
> \- As always, you can find me on tumbr at htumblr.com/blog/rosietheraven if you are so inclined
> 
> Also I'm participating in NaNoWriMo this year, so it's going to be slow going on the update front!
> 
> Anyway I think writing this is going to be fun and I hope you all enjoy reading it!


	2. Chapter 2

 

Marco rubbed his eyes as sunlight crept over the castle walls, chasing away the morning chill. He paced back and forth in the yard as servants loaded his trunks onto the carriage. The past twenty-four hours had been a flurry of packing and making the castle ready for his absence. His younger brother and sister stood by the door to the entry hall, both children looking cross and tired.

Bianca’s arms crossed over her chest in a pout, “I want to go with you.”

"I've already told you, no," Marco said.

Dante, still half asleep, perked up at this, “If she’s going then I’m going! I heard Master Armin say there was going to be a joust!”

Marco took his cloak from a waiting servant and wrapped it around his shoulders, “ _Neither_ of you are going.” He was anxious enough without the added trial of bringing his brother and sisters along.

Bianca stamped her foot, “But I want to meet the Prince!”

“You’ll meet him when we get back,” he said, looking around as a groom brought his horse forward, “Where is your sister?”

At that moment, Petra bustled into the courtyard. The governess's usually gentle face was knit in a frown. “Kat locked herself in her room and she won’t come down.”

“She would be in one of her moods, today of all days,” Marco snapped. Petra raised her eyebrows at him and Marco rubbed his forehead,  “Sorry. If Cat doesn't want to say goodbye then I can’t make her.”

Marco bent and gave his little brother and sister a hug and a kiss each before vaulting up into the saddle. Shoving away the dread in the pit of his stomach, he smiled at them with an assurance he didn't feel.

“I’ll be home in two weeks. Be good while I’m gone, listen to Petra.”

He turned around, taking in the sight of his home one more time before he turned his horse down the long road to the capitol.

 

* * *

 

"Married?”  Jean sputtered. He fumbled and almost dropped his teacup. “To a _Duke_?"

"He's a cousin of mine," King Erwin said, sipping his tea. “He’ll arrive in a day or two. You’ll be married, and then you will go live with him at his estate.”

Jean stared at him open mouthed, unable to form a coherent protest.

Discovering that the King was arranging a  _marriage_  for him was just about the last thing he had expected. When Erwin had invited him to tea, he’d thought he was going to be reprimanded for his latest quarrel with Prince Eren the day before. The fight had come to blows, and the royal guards had needed to pull them apart. Captain Levi had decreed that Jean was no longer permitted to leave his rooms without permission. It hadn't been a complete loss though, the look on Eren’s face when Captain Levi barred him from jousting in the upcoming tournament as his punishment was priceless.

“The Duchy of Jinea covers the entire northern border,” Erwin continued conversationally, “Charming countryside, but it tends to be cold. You’ll want a warmer wardrobe.”

"You… you cannot do this,"  Jean stammered, finally finding his voice, "You don't have the authority to do this." He set down his teacup with a rattle, his voice growing louder as his anger overruled his common sense.

Erwin frowned at his heavy handedness with the tableware. "By the terms of the treaty, you are a ward of the crown. I have every authority to arrange your marriage," he corrected.

"And if I do not consent?" Jean asked sharply, his voice rising in pitch. “You- you cannot make me!” He couldn't bring himself to care that he was shouting at a King.

Erwin’s face became hard, “Your consent is not required. You will sign the marriage agreement, play your part in the proper ceremonies, and then accompany your new husband to his estates.”

Jean crossed his arms over his chest and lifted his chin, “Or what?”

Erwin carefully set his teacup down and folded his hands. “You forget that I can do as I like with you. I can marry you to anyone I want; a man of noble lineage close to your own age, or a beggar on the street.” The King’s eyes were icy. “I could confiscate all of your possessions and throw you into the dungeons. I could order Levi to drag you down to the courtyard, take your head off, and put it on a spike on the walls- and no one would stop it.”

Jean shrank in his seat, unable to keep his hands from trembling.

Erwin took a sip of his tea, “I have no use for a disobedient Prince at my court. If you aren't of use, then there is no reason to keep you.” The King’s voice remained deceptively calm, “You should take some time and think about how comfortable your position here is and how much worse it could be. Do I make myself clear?”

Jean felt the color drain from his face and his stomach churned. Out. He had to get out. Jean scrambled up from the table, the footman hastening to open the door for him as he fled the room.

Erwin waved his hand, dismissing the servants, and sat back in his chair as the doors eased shut. Levi, the only one still present, raised an eyebrow, “Drag him outside and cut his head off huh?”

Erwin poured a fresh cup of tea and handed it to the captain. “I couldn't have you do it _here_ ,” he said dryly, “Do you have any idea how expensive this carpet is?”

Levi took a seat in Jean's vacated chair, "I'm surprised he didn't shit himself."

“As long as he believes I’d do it, that’s all that matters. I need to get him safely bundled off into the country with as little fuss as possible. The sooner this is all over with the better.”

 

* * *

 

 The journey from Jinae to the capitol took three days. Marco and his retinue barely made it into the city before the gates closed for the night. At least the late hour meant they didn't have to deal with crowded streets on the way to the palace.

After washing off the dust from the road, Marco flopped into a chair, glad to be in his old rooms. They weren't the grandest chambers, but they were cozy and close to the royal library. His windows viewed the city below, sprawling out in all directions. He smiled; Jinae was home, but he had missed it here.

There was a quick knock at the door before it burst open and Eren came dashing into his room. “Armin told me you'd arrived!” Eren gave him a welcoming hug, patting him on the shoulder. “Welcome back! It’s been too long!” The young Prince pulled back, a serious expression on his face. "I'm sorry about the circumstances though. If I were king I'd never make you marry anyone you didn't want, you know that don't you?"

Marco shrugged, "It's my duty to do what your uncle asks me. He was going to arrange a marriage for me eventually. The part where I’m marrying foreign royalty is unexpected though."

“I don’t understand why _you're_ the one who has to marry him.”

“Armin said there aren't many unmarried people of high enough rank to be suitable,” Marco said with a shrug, “Could be a lot worse.”

Eren wrinkled his nose, "I'd have a hard time imagining it."

Marco frowned. The fact that Armin and Eren both disliked him was not a good sign.

"Well I suppose you'll meet him at the tournament finals tomorrow,” Eren continued, “Then you can decide for yourself."

"I missed the first day?” he said in disappointment, “Who’s riding?”

Eren counted out on his fingers, “Annie Leonhardt and Reiner Braun are riding for third place, and Captain Levi and Mikasa are riding for the champion's place.”

“Really? Not you?”

Eren's expression went sour, “Levi and Erwin forbid me from competing.”

Marco sighed, “What did you do?”

Eren's hands curled into fists, “It wasn't my fault; it was that idiot you're marrying.”

Marco folded his hands, “You lost your temper didn't you." He liked Eren, but he was quick to take offense and his reactions were explosive.

“I couldn't just stand there and let him insult me! You’d think he’d be a little more concerned with the shit he says considering his situation.”

“He’s not here willingly Eren. I can’t imagine that you would be the most pleasant person if they shipped you off to another country and forced to behave.”

Eren folded his arms, “Maybe, but I don’t see why he has to be an ass to everyone. It’s not my fault he’s here. If there’s an upside to you marrying him, it's that it’ll get him the hell away from here.” Eren grinned, “If he annoys you, you can just lock him up somewhere in that mammoth castle of yours. Somewhere in a high tower where he can only annoy the birds.”

“Eren!”

“And at least you don’t have to consummate it,” the Prince said with a shudder.

Marco felt himself blush. That particular idea hadn't even entered his mind. 

“So,” he asked, desperate to change the subject, “Do you think Mikasa will finally beat the Captain?"

"I hope so," Eren said wistfully, "Otherwise, I'm going to lose a lot of money to Hanji."

"You could always bet on Levi instead."

Eren grinned, "I know you're not married _yet_ Marco, but even I'm not dumb enough to bet _against_ my wife. Well, not unless I want to sleep in the stables for a week."

 "Stables? More like the _moat_."

 

* * *

 

Jean sprawled on the chaise in his sitting room, not even looking at the book that lay open in his lap. It was just after breakfast, but he was already bored out of his mind. He stared longingly out the window, it was a gorgeous day. He’d kill to go out for a ride, but since he was confined to his quarters the only thing to do was sit.

He sighed and slumped down even further into the cushions, “Can’t we go for a quick walk around the courtyard or something?”

“No.”

Annie lounged in an armchair near the door, cleaning her nails. The young woman might _seem_ relaxed, but Jean had watched her spar before. She could be up with her sword drawn as quick as a snake.

"Come on, you have to be as bored as I am."

She didn't even bother looking up.

Jean fidgeted. His book slipped to the floor and he made no move to catch it. “You’re sure you know _nothing_  about this Duke?”

“No.”

Jean frowned in consternation. If they were going to keep him locked up all day, at least they could give him a guard who was more knowledgeable about the court's gossip. “You know a lot about Eren. They're cousins or something aren't they?”

She shrugged.

"Are you  _trying_  to get me to jump out the window."

There was a soft tapping on the door. Annie rose and opened it, stepping to the side to let Armin enter. He bowed, "Good Morning your Highness."

"Oh what now?" 

“Well, You'll be allowed to attend the jousting finals today.”

Jean perked up immediately, “Excellent!”

“-So you can meet the Duke before Erwin announces the wedding today.”

Jean’s face fell, “Of fucking course.”

“Be nice to him,” Armin said firmly.

Jean frowned at the reprimand, he was not accustomed to a steward talking back to him. However, he’d quickly learned the consequences of being rude to Armin: tepid bath water, cold food, and especially forgetful servants who neglected to bring his coffee in the morning.

“Yes, I should be _polite_ , the rest of the royal family here have been _so_ kind," Jean snapped.

Armin scowled, “Marco has as much of a choice in this as you do. He’s a good person and he's done nothing to deserve-” Armin cut himself off and sighed, “Just…”

“Just what?”

“Don’t an asshole like you usually are,” Annie said.

Jean narrowed his eyes, “I can be nice."

Annie and Armin looked at each other wordlessly.

"I can!"

The two of them blinked at him.

“Oh fuck both of you!” He stormed off to his bedroom. “Since I'm going out in public for once, I need to change my clothes.”

“There’s only three hours before the jousting starts your Highness, are you sure you have time?” Annie quipped.

“Ha ha _very_ funny.”

 

* * *

 

That afternoon, Marco and Eren walked together to the formal yard by the castle where the jousting would be held. Though the sun shone, a chilly wind blew as a reminder that winter wasn't too far gone. When they climbed into the royal box where the royal family and most prominent courtiers sat, Marco made his formal bow to Erwin.

Even before Hanji stepped forward to introduce them, Marco knew the young man sitting at the farmost right edge of the box was Prince Jean.

Armin had told the truth about one thing, he was incredibly handsome. He had a strong jaw, pointed chin, and his nose was long and straight. Though his hair was an unremarkable shade of light brown, his eyes were fierce, like a hawk. His jacket and cloak were bright scarlet and decorated with gold thread.  The prince sat tall in his low backed chair and wore a golden coronet on his head.

Jean turned to look at him and their eyes met briefly. Marco swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. The Prince’s gaze swept up and down, taking him all in before glancing away in disinterest. Marco surreptitiously wished he he had worn something more impressive. Most of his clothes were rather plain for a noble, since he spent most of his time at his own estate in his library.

Marco bowed, and uneasily took his seat next to Prince Jean. Eren plopped down in the chair on his other side. While Eren chatted with Hanji, Marco and Jean sat in silence. It was ridiculous, they had to say _something_ to each other. 

The crowd started to cheer and clap as the two knights rode into the yard. Marco didn't know Annie or Reiner particularly well, though he did know that the former was a member of the royal guard. Marco watched Jean out of the corner of his eye. As the horses entered the arena, the Prince leaned forward in his chair, eyes gleaming with excitement. His teeth dug into his lower lip in a very distracting way. 

Marco forced himself to stop staring, and ran his fingers through his hair. “So,” he remarked offhandedly, “Who do you think will win the bout?”

“Annie,” Jean said without a moment’s hesitation.

Marco raised his eyebrows, Reiner was much taller and had to be twice as heavy. Annie must be a skilled warrior to be in the royal guard, but there was no way she could win.

"You really think so?"

Jean leaned on his armrest, propping his chin up in his hand and shrugged.

_Great, one whole word of conversation._

Thankfully, the trumpets blew, saving him from further awkward silence. The two knights urged their horses forward. Even though they were using tourney lances, made to break on impact, Marco flinched as the avalanche of man and horse charged down the list toward the much smaller woman. Annie leveled her lance just under the center point of Reiner’s shield knocking him sideways and out of the saddle in an enormous crash of metal.  It happened so quickly most people probably missed how it was done. The whole crowd gasped and Annie reined in her horse, turning and lifting her visor. A squire dashed out onto the field, but by the time he got there Reiner had sat up and pulled off his helmet. There was a collective sigh of relief as the crowd applauded.

The servants circulated among the nobility, offering refreshments while the yard was made ready for the final joust.

Marco jumped slightly in his seat as Jean reached a hand across him, “Pay up Eren.”

Eren petulantly handed over a coin purse, “Damn, I really thought he'd get her this time!”

Jean smirked, “That’s because you’re and idiot.”

 "Say that again.”

Marco glanced back and forth between the two of them; it was like he wasn't even there.

Jean leaned forward, eyes filled with malice. “Idiot.”

“I swear, I’ll stomp you into the dirt.”

Jean looked ready to leap out of his chair. “It’d be my pleasure.”

Marco held up his hands, “Whoa wait a minute-”

“This doesn't concern you,” Jean snapped.

“Well the king won’t allow it," Marco said, "So this argument is pointless.”

“That is correct,” Hanji interrupted. Her usually jovial demeanor full of disapproval.

Eren sank back into his chair with a scowl and Marco let go of a relieved sigh. Jean grabbed a glass of wine from a tray and began to drink in sullen silence. Marco took a cake and nibbled it, wishing he were just about anywhere else in the world.  It felt like being back home with his brother and sisters with all the squabbling. No wonder Erwin wanted to get the Jean away from the court. Eren had a bad temper and  Jean’s was equally nasty. If things escalated it would be a disaster.

"Well," Annie said from behind them, "Glad to see nobody killed you while I was gone."

Marco jumped, he hadn't even seen her enter the box. She'd changed out of her heavy armor, but carried a deadly looking sword on her hip.

"Congratulations," Jean said.

Annie pushed a lock of damp hair away from her face, looking at jean with suspicion, "Why are you being so nice?"

"He just won a lot of money off Eren because of you," Marco explained.

Annie glanced sideways at where Eren sat, "Oh really."

The trumpets sounded and the crowd cheered wildly as Mikasa and Levi entered the lists.

Princess Mikasa was dazzling in silver armor, a bright red cloak around her shoulders. She held her lance in one hand and kept her helmet tucked under her arm. Her dark hair was short for a noblewoman's, but with her delicate features and clear gray eyes, no one could deny that she was lovely.

Levi was plain by comparison, his armor was obviously well used but he wore it comfortably. Though he didn't smile or even raise his and in acknowledgement,  his half of the crowd cheered for him just as loudly.

Mikasa turned her mount toward the royal box and Eren stood up and moved to the railing. He pulled a white kerchief out of his sleeve and handed it down to her. Mikasa blushed and tucked it into her breastplate as the crowd whistled and hooted. She handed her lance to a waiting squire and put on her helmet and hide her face.

Behind them, Annie made a soft sound of disgust.

“So," Jean said, "How come you don’t get to pick your spouse, but the heir to the throne does?”

Marco looked up, startled that Jean was actually addressing him, "Well he did choose her but they still got the King's approval. You've probably heard the story already.”

Jean nodded, "She was a foreign princess passing through Shiganshina to marry a different prince, got kidnapped, Eren happened to be nearby and came to her rescue -”

“The King gets an alliance," Marco shrugged, “They're happy. It’s nice.”

Jean harrumphed and took a long drink from his wineglass.

Both jousters ready, the trumpets sounded again. The horses charged and both of them leveled their lances and everyone shifted forward in their seats. They crashed together and both lances broke, leaving no clear winner. Again and again they clashed and neither side showed any sign of failing. It was some of the best fighting Marco had ever seen. Everyone was on the edge of their seat.

Finally, in the seventh round, Mikasa’s lance struck well, but Levi’s hit came hard and knocked her sideways. Eren, along with half the crowd, jumped to their feet as she flailed and dropped her lance. Mikasa twisted, miraculously managing keeping her seat and not crash into the dirt. The crowd roared as the judge dipped his flag, indicating that Levi had won the bout.

Eren swore and tossed a pouch of money to Hanji. To Marco’s surprise, Jean actually had the audacity to boo.

“What?” he said when he noticed Marco starring, “The captain’s an asshole." He drained the rest of his wineglass. "The nobles here must _love_ that a commoner wins all the tourneys.”

“Well he is captain of the guard, and a war hero.”

“Then why doesn't the King just give him a title? Or at least make him a knight.”

Marco glanced around nervously, “He ah… _said no_.”

Jean raised his eyebrows, “Really? I find it hard to imagine Erwin  _letting_ anyone say no to him.”

“Levi _did_ save his life," Marco said tentatively, "More than once, and ah.. well..” Marco made a little gesture with his hand. “It’s complicated.”

"Complicated?"

"They're fucking," Annie said, blunt as always.

Marco smothered a squeak of embarrassment, 

"What?" Annie said, "Everybody knows  _that_." _  
_

"Dammit Annie," Jean said, "When I ask you for interesting gossip, this is the kind of shit that I mean!"

Erwin stood and their conversation came to a halt as all conversation among the nobles stopped and the crowd hushed. Jean’s smile vanished as the crowd hushed.

“Though thankful for peace," the King began, "The people of Shiganshina still care wounds of our recent war with Sina. Mending our relationship with our neighbors is of paramount importance. And so, I’m pleased to announce that two houses  once at war will be united by marriage-”

Marco sat up straight and forced a smile on his face, knowing that in a few moments all eyes would be on him. _Here we go._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter feels so slow to me - maybe it's just because I've been working on it too long. 
> 
> Anyway- Wedding next chapter sooooo *Throws flower petals*


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wedding happens and copious amounts of alcohol are consumed afterward.

 “We're sending you both to Jinae with the Duke and the Prince.”

“ _What_?”

Annie couldn't believe her ears. She glanced at Armin, and he seemed equally surprised.

Hanji sat on the corner of Captain Levi’s pristine desk, ignoring his scowl. “Armin, you know the Duke. He’s a kind man who sees the best in everyone. It’s an admirable quality but...” They looked at him over the top of their glasses, “I need someone there who knows how to look for trouble.”

Armin nodded, looking resigned, “I understand.”

“But why do I have to go?” Annie protested, “The Duke has his own guards-”

Levi cut her off, “The Prince is still in royal custody. Even though he’s leaving the castle he’s still the King’s responsibility. He needs to be guarded and protected.”

Annie shook her head, “I’m one of your best swords, I should be _here_ guarding the royal family.”

Levi pressed his lips together, “Hanji, Armin, could you excuse us?” He waited until the door clicked shut before continuing. “I think it's a good idea for you to leave the city for a while.”

“That's not necessary.”

“I think that it _is_ , and the King agrees with me.”

Annie clenched her hands into fists, “So first I’m not good enough to guard Eren, and now you're making me _leave_?”

“Eren is the heir and he's of age, he's completely within his rights to choose who protects him. Mikasa beat you in a fair contest."

Annie choked with anger at the memory. She’d trained since childhood to be a great warrior. The day she’d been named Prince Eren’s protector when she was only fifteen had been the proudest day of her life. 

Until six months ago she had been the best sword fighter of her generation. There had even been talk she'd follow Captain Levi as head of the Royal Guard. Then Mikasa came to court and all her hard work had been undone in a single day. The shame of it ate away at her.

"I can't go to Jinae, how can I win my place back if I'm not here?"

"You know it's not that simple. Even if you challenged her again and won, he couldn't just give you your place back. She's popular with both the nobles and the common people, not to mention she's his _wife_."

"Of course," Annie's temper flared, "I forgot that spreading your legs is a  _requirement_ for moving up in the Royal Guard."

“ _What_ ,” The fury in his voice made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

Annie blanched, "Sir-" _  
_

He held up a hand for silence,  “ _Get out of my office_.”

Annie hurried from the room as quick as her feet could carry her, hands shaking. God he was terrifying when he was angry.

She hurried down the stairs to her quarters and slammed the door behind her. She thumped her head against the wood, cursing herself for a fool. What had she been thinking? If she’d stayed calm and kept her temper in check, maybe she’d have been able to stay. But now they'd banished her to the ass end of the country, far away from everything that mattered and she’d be lucky if she could ever come back.

* * *

 

Jean stared at his breakfast, unable to eat a bite as servants bustled all around, packing up his few belongings. He'd dragged his feet all morning, staying in bed as long as he dared and then skulking in his bath until the water went cold. He held his robe closer around himself while the servants laid out his clothes. The clothes he was going to be _married_ in. His stomach rolled just thinking about it. 

He could still refuse to go through with it and dare Erwin to do his worst, but he _wouldn't_ because he was a damn coward. He loathed himself for his lack of courage.

Armin came into the room and frowned. "You’re not dressed yet? The ceremony is in less than an hour. The King will kill us both if you're late."

Jean put his head in his hands; this is what a hunted animal must feel like when the hounds were closing in, “I don’t think I can do this.”

“You have to,” Armin said, alarmed, “You can’t back out now. The entire kingdom knows about this wedding, not to mention all the foreign dignitaries. The king won’t let you back out and embarrass him like that!”

Jean forced himself to stand and let the servants dress him. As tradition dictated, he wore the colors of his house. The servants helped him into a high collared coat of dark green and hung a flowing white satin cape from his shoulders. His gold coronet felt unbearably heavy when they placed it on his head. When he was finished dressing, Annie stepped into the room. Her armor was polished and shining, but there were dark circles under her eyes.

“He looks like he's going to faint."

Instead of his usual angry retort, Jean clenched his jaw. He felt like he was going to be sick.

Annie shook her head, “Oh God. Come on, Hanji will have a fit if you take any longer.”

Armin lead the way to the castle chapel and Jean followed in a daze. He’d never been the type to imagine what his eventual wedding would be like, but what he _had_ imagined was better than _this_. A royal wedding ought to take place in a Cathedral, with cheering crowds and his family members all around him. But there was none of that today, just a room full of strangers, most of whom still saw him as an enemy.

Hanji, who was waiting outside the chapel for them, jumped to their feet as they approached. “Oh good you’re here!”

The Duke was waiting for them as well. He was much better dressed than he had been at the tournament, wearing the Shiganshina royal colors of dark blue and white. Clearly they'd found someone with good taste to dress him for the occasion.

Hanji whisked Armin and Annie away, leaving the two of them alone in front of the doors. Jean heard the murmur of voices in the other side, _how many people were in there_?

The two footmen were watching him, waiting to open the doors at his signal. Since he had the higher rank he was supposed to lead them both in, but he was frozen in place. Jean squeezed his eyes shut, his calm facade cracking.  _I can't do this._

He jumped as Marco touched his arm, fingers curling gently around his bicep. Jean glanced up at him; he hadn't noticed before that the Duke was taller than him. Marco's smile was tight and nervous, but his eyes were warm and encouraging.

"Don't let them rush you," he whispered. "Go when you're ready."

Jean laughed weakly, "When I'm ready? If I wait that long we'll both have wrinkles and gray hair." The Duke's smile relaxed, and Jean took a deep breath. He squared his shoulders and nodded at the attendants to open the doors.

* * *

 

Jean was so nervous that afterward he would barely remember any of the ceremony. He mumbled “I do," at the appropriate times, and managed not to drop the ring… or _faint_. Finally, the Bishop pronounced them married and they were whisked out of the chapel through the corridors to the grand hall. The King had arranged a banquet, though Jean would have preferred to flee to his rooms rather than sit in a room full of people and pretend he was glad that he'd been bullied into this.

As a servant pulled out his chair, Jean realized he’d been clinging to the Duke’s arm ever since they left the chapel. He let go quickly, cheeks flushed in embarrassment. 

Though the ceremony had been small, the banquet was open for the entire court to attend. The food was delicious, and the wine was plentiful, but a sense of uneasiness permeated the room. Though it was a wedding feast, not a single person congratulated the couple or made toasts to their happiness. After gulping down it's contents, Jean held out his wineglass for a servant to refill. The smell of food made his stomach churn, or maybe that was the wine. He noticed his new husband glancing at him with what any observer would have called _motherly_ concern.

"What? If I can't get drunk at my own wedding, when _can_ I get drunk?" He asked before taking a sizable gulp.

"Fair enough," Marco said, lips curling in a faint smile.

Thankfully the King didn't remain at the feast long and refrained from offering his congratulations. Jean was fairly sure he would have tossed his wine in the man’s face if he'd come close enough.

As the servants cleared away the dishes, the room filled with the hum of conversation and a group of musicians started to play. The older members of the court followed the King out, and servants dismantled some of the tables to make room for the younger people to dance.

Eren approached, leading Mikasa by the hand, and Armin hovered behind them. Mikasa was stunning in a brilliant red gown, with the long flowing sleeves. Marco bowed over her hand and she stepped forward to hug him. “It’s good to see you.”

She turned and nodded to Jean, who bowed elaborately, kissing the back of her hand. “Beautiful as always,” he said. Eren glared, his face turning red.

“Calm down,” Marco heard Armin whisper. “You know he only does it because it makes you angry.”

“Mikasa," Marco blurted anxiously, "Where did you get that mare you rode during the tournament, she was new wasn't she?”

  
Jean sipped on his wine, tuning out the conversation as his new spouse frantically attempted to ease the tension. He tapped his foot to the music. It had been a long time since he'd done any dancing. He hadn't exactly been in the mood since arriving in Shiganshina. He abruptly offered his arm to Mikasa, “Care to dance?”

“I’d be honored,” she said, patting Eren’s arm as he let out an angry squawk.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Marco asked, glancing meaningfully at Jean’s empty wineglass.

Jean guffawed, "I’m fine." His bravado didn't stop him from setting his glass down with careful deliberation.

Most of the court watched as Jean and Mikasa joined the line of dancers for the next song and Marco held his breath. As the first beats of the music began, he saw his worry had been needless. Jean moved through the steps with a surety that came from years of practice.

Marco watched in fascination. Both Jean and Mikasa were excellent dancers, but so different. Mikasa possessed an easy natural grace that made every step appear effortless, while Jean was exuberant and energetic. Marco couldn't take his eyes off of them. He clapped along with everyone else in the room as the dancers came to a stop. Mikasa leaned in to say something and Jean threw his head back and laughed. He smiled and Marco’s heart thudded in his chest.

_Oh no._

* * *

  
Reiner laughed, clapping a hand down on the table hard enough to make their glasses rattle.

“It’s not funny you big idiot,” Annie hissed, taking a swallow of her drink, “I’m in deep shit.”

The two of them sat at a table on the edge of the room. A half empty bottle of spirits Reiner had procured rested on the table between them.

Reiner set his empty glass down with a clack, reaching for the bottle. “I can't _believe_ you said that and walked out of there in one piece.”

“You’d better believe I didn't _walk_ , I ran like the devil.”

He leaned over to top off her glass and she looked at him balefully.

“You have the night off Annie, and you've got plenty of reasons to get drunk off your ass.  _Drink_.”

She lifted the glass and tossed the contents back. The dark liquid burned down her throat and it was an effort not to make a face.

“This might not be a bad thing you know," Reiner said.

“Not a bad thing? My life is over. I was the best and now I’m nothing. Once I leave court everyone will forget about me.” 

Reiner refilled their glasses, “Oh please. You've never given a shit what the court thinks of you. Even when you were champion, the popularity never seemed to make you happy.”

“Well not everyone gets to be happy.”

“Oh Annie.”

The look of pity on his face made her want to knock him off his horse again.

“On that note, how’s your wife?” she asked.

“She’s at the manor with the baby.” 

“ _And_ Lady Ymir.”

“You know I don’t give a shit about that.”Neither Reiner or his wife Historia were particularly interested in the opposite sex, but they had both needed an heir. Their marriage was one of convenience and neither of them necessarily expected fidelity. “Marcel is doing fine too by they way.”

Annie waved a hand, “Oh you go through them so quickly, who can keep track.”

Reiner narrowed his eyes, “I’m remembering why I don’t drink with you Annie. You’re mean when you drink.”

“It’s because I only drink when I’m in a bad mood.”

Annie poured herself another glass, fully intending to drink until she forgot today had happened.

* * *

  
Marco sat back in his chair, loosening his collar. Eren and Mikasa had long since disappeared, hand clasped back to their rooms. Even Marco couldn't help but be slightly disgusted with how affectionate they were with one another. 

“I’m not going to lie Armin, I’ll be happy to have you back at the castle with me," he said.

"I suppose I should be grateful for the break," Armin said, "Hanji keeps me so busy."

Armin looked up as Reiner approached, the smell of the liquor on his breath was so strong Marco was surprised he was still standing.  Armin scrunched his nose up, "What _have_ you  been drinking?"

Reiner shrugged, "Annie had most of it."

Armin looked out at the dance floor, "Oh God is she dancing? She never dances," He looked at the Reiner in alarm, "How much has she had exactly?"

"Relax, I took her sword away," Reiner said, waggling the blade in question, "This way she can't kill anybody. All the silverware _is_ put away, right?"

Armin put his face in his hands and shook his head, “Shit. I have to take care of this. _You_ come help," he said, jabbing a finger at Reiner.

He nearly ran into Jean as the Prince returned to the table. His face was flushed and he'd lost his coat somewhere. He looked at Marco accusingly. "You've been sitting here all night."

"Ah..."

"I need a partner," he said imperiously, “Dance with me.”

Marco sank down in his chair, “I’m not much of a dancer.”

Jean stuck his lower lip out, “Don’t snub me, you’ll make me look bad.”

Marco twisted the stem of his wine glass between his fingers, eyes drawn to the undone cravat around the prince’s neck.

“You _have_ to dance with me," Jean insisted, "It’s my _wedding_.” Jean reached across the table and seized his hand.

“All right all right,” Marco said, though he wanted to point out that it was _his_ wedding too.

Jean towed him onto the dance floor to join the line of dancers. Marco was relieved that the pace of the dance was sedate, not one of the faster ones where a wrong step would send you crashing into another dancer.

As the dance brought them twirling together and then skipping apart, Jean moved fluidly through the steps. Marco felt like a clod in comparison. They turned around one another and Marco inhaled sharply as Jean’s hand pressed firmly against the small of his back.

“You’re not a bad dancer for a man who supposedly spends all his time in the library," Jean said, turning gracefully under his arm.

"Yes well... you seem like you're enjoying yourself," Marco said.

Jean huffed, "Enjoy might be too strong of a word."

Marco wasn't sure of what to say to that. His palms started to sweat and wished he hadn't removed his gloves.

The song ended and Jean stumbled as he bowed forward. He pressed both hands on Marco’s chest to keep himself from falling and Marco’s hands instinctively went to steady him.

“Are you all right?”

Jean moved a hand to his face, “Ah, too much spinning in that one.”

Marco tucked a hand under his elbow, “Do you need to sit down?”

Jean groaned, “Bed sounds better.”

Marco glanced around, the next dance had started and nobody seemed to be paying attention to them. It was technically their banquet after all; they certainly weren't going to offend anyone by leaving.

“All right. Come one let's go."

* * *

 The noise from the hall faded behind them as they slowly walked through the dim corridor back to the guest quarters.  Jean was exhausted and his feet ached. He’d certainly over done it; too much alcohol and not enough food.

“Do you think anyone would mind if I just passed out here in the hall?”

The Duke suppressed a laugh, “We’re almost there."

They walked down the hall in silence, the rich carpet muffling their footsteps. “Feeling any better?” Marco asked.

Jean groaned, “Just relieved that it’s all over. What a fucking _shitty_ day.”

“I meant the dizziness," Marco said awkwardly, "But ah... it has been a long day,” he added quickly.

Marco stopped walking and Jean looked up at him, gaze drifting to the smattering of freckles across his nose. A strange look passed across the Duke’s face and his fingers tightened briefly on Jean’s arm. He abruptly looked away and cleared his throat, "Well, I'll leave you here then."

Jean glanced around, realizing they'd arrived at his door. He removed his hand from the Duke's arm, “Oh. Good night.”

“Good night.” Marco bowed his head and continued down the hall.

Jean opened the door and stumbled into his deserted rooms. His hand went to the bell pull to ring for the servants but decided against it. He didn't particularly want anyone to witness the humiliation of a Prince going to bed drunk and alone on his wedding night. He’d had too much wine to be as fussy as he normally was about his nighttime routine. Jean kicked off his boots, and slid out of his clothes, leaving them haphazardly thrown over a chair. He flopped into his bed in his under-drawers, falling into the oblivious sleep of the deeply intoxicated.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your comments! It really means a lot to hear what you think! 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading- I feel like things are moving so slowly, but then again in most of my fics I like to just throw the main characters into bed together ASAP so I think it's a good thing for me to change it up.
> 
> When I started this fic I didn't really intend for Annie to be a POV character, but then THINGS happened.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco learns how much trouble Jean can be when he puts his mind to it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap this chapter turned out really long!

The morning after the wedding, Jean woke up to chirping birds and the sun shining through his window. He _also_ had a pounding headache and a sour stomach. He hadn't been this hung over since the time he’d snuck into his uncle’s liquor storage when he was fourteen.

There was a sharp knock on the door. Jean groaned, pulling the blankets up over his head.

“Go away!”

Armin barged in anyway, accompanied by several palace servants. “Your Highness, the carriage leaves in half an hour.”

Jean heard the clink of china. He peeked out from under his blanket and the heavenly aroma of coffee filled his nose. He snatched the cup and cradled it close. The smell of everything else on the breakfast tray made his stomach roll, and he waved his hand in disgust, “Take it away or I’ll be sick.”

He was not at _all_ ready for the ordeal of spending the entire day in a carriage. Despite Armin’s haranguing, he waited until the last possible minute to get out of bed. Since no one was going to see him, he saw no reason to dress in his usual finery. He put on a plain set of clothes and wrapped his cloak around his shoulders.

Armin hustled him downstairs to the courtyard, where the Duke and the rest of his retinue waited. When he saw Marco, Jean burned with shame remembering the night before. _Why had he drank so much?_ He quickly pulled himself up inside the carriage, hoping to avoid notice, but it didn't work.

Marco looked up from where he stood by his horse’s head and smiled cheerfully, “Good Morning!”

Jean scowled and slammed the door to the coach shut, tugging the curtains closed. He pulled the hood of his cloak up and settled down into the seat. The Duke could shove his _‘good morning’_ where the sun didn't shine.

* * *

 The trip to Jinae was certainly better than the trip from Sina to Shiganshina. Though he was still under guard and the carriage doors kept locked, they stopped each night at a way castle to eat and sleep. Jean was escorted from the coach and locked in his room every night, but better that than eating cold meals and trying to sleep on the road.

During the entire trip he barely saw the Duke at all, and Jean suspected he was avoiding him. He was scrupulously polite, but unlike the tournament or the feast he never tried to engage him in anything but the most banal conversation. He never rode in the carriage and Jean didn’t blame him; the Duke’s horse was a magnificent animal, a sleek, tall, dapple gray courser.

Sometimes Armin shared the carriage with him, and though Jean would never admit it, he enjoyed having the company. Sometimes they played a game of cards, other times Armin just read. Jean never understood how he did that, the carriage jostling back and forth would have made him sick.

Annie kept to herself, even more sullen and cross than usual. Jean didn’t think she’d spoken a civil word to anyone since they’d left.

As they traveled North, the terrain became hilly and rocky. Fields of sheep became more common than fields of crops. It also grew colder. The wind howled and rattled the windows of his rooms at night. Finally, on the sixth day of their journey, Jean heard a shout go up from outside as they approached their destination. He pulled back the curtain to look. The sight made his jaw drop. Jinae castle was enormous, a massive coiling beast of gray stone on top of a high rocky green hill.  He had to crane his head back to see the tops of the five tall towers that reared up into the sky. Beneath the walls were rocky cliffs, and two curtain walls protected the only approach to the gate.

A small town lay at the base of the hill. As they passed through, people called out and waved. Jean let the curtain fall closed and sank back into his seat. He knew they’d be eager to see him, but he wasn’t in the mood to be gawked at like a lion in a menagerie.

They traveled out of the town and up through the castle gates, finally coming to a stop in the innermost courtyard. The carriage door opened, and a hand appeared to help him down.

“Your Highness?”

Jean had to bite back a startled exclamation. The man who handed him down from the coach was terribly tall, well over six feet, and dressed in armor. _What on earth did they feed these Northerners?_

Jean took in his surroundings, and the more he looked around the yard the deeper his frown grew. Though the castle was undeniably impressive, up close it was impossible to miss the wear and tear. Parts of the walls were crumbling and weeds grew up through the courtyard’s flagstones. The gardens were untended tangles of shrubs. It was… shabby, like an elderly aunt who wore clothes five decades out of fashion and covered her face in powder to hide the cracks.

The Duke swung down from his horse and shook hands with the giant.

“Bertholdt!”

“Welcome home. How was your trip?”

“Long. No trouble while I was gone was there?”

“Quiet as a church yard,” he assured.

There was a loud high pitched cry and Jean nearly jumped out of his skin as two dark haired children ran out of the gate and tackled the Duke in a hug. They quickly noticed Jean and stared at him, eyes wide. Seeming to remember himself, Marco stood and turned.

“Dante, Bianca, I’d like you to meet Prince Jean. He’s going to be living with us.”

Aside from their obvious relation to the Duke, the two children were as different as night and day. The boy was dressed in clean neat clothes, while his sister’s face and hands were smudged with dirt. While the boy stood close to his older brother eyes downcast, the girl stood with her hands on her hips, staring at him. Jean felt a pang in his chest and bit the inside of his cheek. They reminded him so much of his little cousins that he’d left behind in Sina.

“If you’re a prince then where’s your crown?” the girl asked suspiciously

“Bianca! Don’t be rude!” Marco said.

“I was just asking.”

The giant in armor was introduced as Bertholdt Hoover, the Duke’s Captain of the guard. He was also introduced to Mistress Petra, who had the seemingly impossible job of being both the housekeeper and the governess for the children.

Armin greeted everyone warmly; he visited the duchy frequently and was familiar with both the staff and with Marco’s family. Annie stood by her horse, arms crossed as she glared around the yard in hostility.

The gathering moved inside and Jean followed hesitantly. The entryway was large, the ceiling reaching up high over their heads. Doorways led off in all directions and a pair of staircases led to an upper gallery that circled the room. A towering pair of double doors lead on to what must be the great hall.

“Sir?” a voice chirped behind him, “I mean, Your Highness?”

Jean turned. A short girl with dark braided hair and a simple servant's dress stood behind him looking nervous.

“I’m to show you to your room Your Highness.”

He followed the maid up the stairs, relieved to escape from the friendly gathering in the hall. The easy camaraderie among the people here made him feel even more of an outsider than he had in Shiganshina City.

In every room they passed through, Jean couldn’t help noticing that the furnishings were falling apart, not to mention decades out of style. He ground his teeth together. This man was a Duke and a member of the royal family. How did he live like this?

They traveled up a spiral staircase, and the maid opened a door to show him inside.

Jean took a step into his bedchamber and couldn’t suppress a sound of indignation. The round room was large and there was a fire in the hearth, but the walls and floor were bare unwelcoming stone. Only a single woven rug lay by the bed. He opened the shutters, startled to discover there was no glass in the windows.

“Barbarians,” he muttered to himself, “Utter barbarians.” An idea occurred to him and he turned, folding his arms over his chest. “Why am I here,” he said, gesturing broadly, “What about the consort’s room?”

Even in a castle as old as this one there would be a large bedroom for the Duke and another equally grand one for his spouse. True, it was an arranged marriage, but, as far as Jean could see, that was all the more reason for him to have a comfortable bedroom.

“The extra bedchamber in the Duke’s suite? That’s where he has his study I think Sir.”

“Oh, so when he eventually married I suppose he thought his spouse would be perfectly happy to be made second to a bunch of books! Unbelievable!”

The girl wilted and Jean clenched his jaw, reminding himself that she was doing her job and didn’t deserve the lash of his temper. “Thank you, that will be all.” She swiftly retreated, closing the door.

Alone for the first time in days, he wearily sat on the bed. It creaked terribly, and he sank deeply into the under-stuffed mattress. Jean put his face in his hands to smother a frustrated scream.

God help him, this was going to be a trial indeed. 

* * *

 Marco stretched in his armchair with one of his books, glad to finally be home. The children, exhausted after all the excitement, had gone to bed. Kat hadn’t come down, but that was a problem for tomorrow. Armin hovered by the fire, twisting his fingers together.

“You’re sure you don’t want me to help out with the staff?”

Marco shook his head, “You’re a guest here Armin.”  Even though he wasn’t a noble, Armin was too close a friend for Marco to feel comfortable treating him like a servant.

“I have to do something or I’ll get bored out of my mind.”

“You can help organize the library if you want.” Marco drummed his fingers on his thigh, “The Prince is all settled?” he asked.

Armin shrugged, “Mina showed him to the guest room in the south tower on the fourth floor.”

Marco nodded. The room was separate from everyone else’s quarters, but he thought the Prince would prefer to have some privacy. He slumped in his chair and sighed, “What am I going to do Armin?”

“What do you mean?”

“I just-” he fiddled with the book in his hands, “He’s so unhappy and I don’t know what will help.”

Armin eyed him with suspicion, “Why so concerned?”

Marco felt his face burn and couldn't meet his friend’s eyes, “You know me, I can’t be at ease when the people around me are discontented.”

"Hmm, If you say so.” He stretched his arms over his head, “I’m going to get some rest, good night Marco.”

Alone, Marco opened his book, but found himself staring into the fire instead of the words on the page. He felt guilty for not being entirely honest with Armin, but he was barely able to admit to himself that he was… _fonder_ of the Prince then he should be.

Marco couldn't help admiring his strength and courage… and God help him the man was handsome! The night after the wedding still stood out so vividly in his mind. He’d never forget way the Prince’s face lit up when he danced, or the sound of his voice when he laughed. While escorting him to his room after the feast, Marco had been filled with a wild urge to kiss him. He had hurried away, horrified with himself. He was supposed to keep the Prince out of trouble, not moon after him like a lovesick school boy. It wasn't _decent_. They were married, but he was supposed to be more of a jailer than a husband.

The Prince could never know; Marco knew he’d be revolted at the idea of someone he’d been forced to marry desiring him. He had to keep this to himself, and hope that with time it would pass.

* * *

 The next morning Jean groaned, rubbing his hand over his eyes as he rolled out of bed. Sleeping in an unfamiliar place always left him groggy and tired. He stepped out of bed and yelped, the bare stone under his feet was chilled; in fact the whole room was unpleasantly cold. He frowned at the dead fire in his hearth, and wrapped a blanket around his shoulders, quickly tucking his feet into his slippers.He was scandalized to discover that there was no attached washroom and he had to go out into the corridor in his nightshirt to find one. Upon returning to his room, he flung open the lid to his trunk, which no one had unpacked for him, and dug through it to look for clean clothes.

Jean couldn't remember the last time he’d gone through his morning routine without at least one servant to help; not that he wasn't perfectly capable of dressing himself, but the entire situation was both irritating and bizarre. No fire. No bath. Reduced to unpacking his own things- it wasn't dignified. Once he was clothed, he stormed off to find the housekeeper… and some breakfast for his growling stomach.

He’d  been sure he remembered the way back down to the great hall, but quickly discovered he was hopelessly turned around. He would have asked a servant for directions, but there were none to be found. It was the largest castle he’d ever been in, but it was empty as a tomb. When he finally heard footsteps ahead, he quickened his pace.

A very young woman, barely out of girlhood stood in the hallway. She was practicing the steps of a court dance, arms lifted gracefully. Her gown was a few years out of style. She moved into a turn, usually performed with a partner for balance, and stumbled.

Jean hurried forward to catch her elbow and keep her from falling. She squeaked, cheeks blushing pink and looked up at him in shock. She had large dark eyes and a smattering of freckles dotted her cheeks.

“Who are you?” She yelled, voice carrying through the empty hall, “What are you doing here?”

Jean realized what he must look like, unshaved and roaming around the hall wrapped in a blanket. He stepped back, “I’m terribly sorry, I left my room to find the housekeeper and I got lost-”

Realization spread across her face, “Oh you’re- Oh!” She curtsied quickly and neatly, “You’re him aren’t you? I can’t believe it!”

“Prince Jean of Sina,” he said with a small bow, “And you are?”

“Lady Katarina Bodt. Everyone just calls me Kat though. Did you say you were lost?” she said rapidly.

Jean bit his lip to stop himself from laughing, “I was looking for Mistress Petra, I don’t suppose you know where I can find her?”

She fidgeted, “Ah…”

Jean raised his eyebrows.

“She may be in the school room with Dante and Bee, or she might be looking for me.”

“Oh?”

“Kat?” a voice called, “Are you down there?”

Her eyes widened, “You didn't’ see me!” she whispered, gathering her skirts and dashing off in the opposite direction.

Jean sighed, he’d never been able to dodge his tutors like that when he was young, but then again his uncle’s castle had been full of people and it was harder to hide.

Petra came around the corner, angry as a storm cloud, but she paused and curtsied when she saw him.

“Oh! Your Highness, forgive me. I was-”

“Mistress Petra,” He said authoritatively... well as authoritatively as he could while wearing a blanket, “Just the person I was looking for.There was no fire in my room this morning.”

She put a hand to her mouth, “Forgive me, there’s usually no one in that wing of the castle, I’ll speak to Thomas about it.”

Jean rubbed his forehead. There was only one servant in charge of lighting all the fires in the entire castle?  No wonder there’d been a mistake. He set his hands on his hips.

“You keep the household accounts don’t you?”

“I do but-”

“I want to see them,” he said, determined to get to the bottom of what was going on.

“Right now? I mean- of course. This way your Highness.”

She led him downstairs to a small office near the kitchens. The desk was covered with neat piles and shelves covered the walls from floor to ceiling, stuffed with books and papers.

“Let me find the most recent account books-”

Jean surveyed the stacks, “Is everything… up to date?”

“It is! I just never seem to have time to shelve everything. The children keep me busy for most of the day. Dante behaves well enough, he’s ten now, but his sisters… Bianca wants to spend all her time getting underfoot in the stables and the barracks. And then Kat… well she’s just at that age where she doesn’t want to listen to anyone.”

Jean winced, the three Bodt children certainly seemed like a handful.

“Kat’s nearly fifteen, but doesn’t show any interest in her future. She doesn’t want to go to the military academy or try to earn her knighthood, she doesn’t want to go to the University. The Duke’s at his wit’s end with her, which is something considering how patient he usually is - ah, here it is!” She pulled a book from the bottom shelf and placed it on the desk. “These are the most recent accounts.”

Jean opened the pages, bracing himself for signs of crippling debt. Marco seemed level headed, but perhaps one of his parents had been a reckless spender, or a gambler, or-

“ _What?_ ”  

Jean stared at the columns of numbers and his mouth hung open. “What is this?” He looked at Petra, mouth agape. “Are these numbers… accurate?” He shook his head “This can’t be right.”

“I assure you, they’re correct your Highness.”

“But- but it doesn't make any sense!”

Jean sat heavily, propping his chin up in one hand. Of all the things he expected, it hadn't been this. He didn’t think he’d ever seen such an enormous sum of money in his entire life.

* * *

 Marco sat at his desk with a cup of tea, glad to be back to the pleasant routine of his research.

He jumped in surprise as Prince Jean burst into his study without knocking and immediately began pacing back and forth. Marco had never seen him in such a state of disarray. His hair was disheveled, there was stubble on his cheeks, his shirt was wrinkled, and… was he wearing a blanket?

“Is there a reason for all of this?” Jean blurted, gesturing ambiguously around the room.

“... Good morning to you  too.”

“No one warned me I was going to be living in ancient ruins!”

“Ruins? It’s an old castle, but I wouldn't say-”

“Parts of the walls are falling down! Not all the windows have glass in them for fuck’s sake!” Jean shouted.

Marco shook his head,  “I don’t see any reason to bother with it, there are only five of us and there aren’t that many staff. Nobody even uses the upper floors of the castle.”

Jean paused in his pacing to glare, “No one uses those parts of the castle because there’s mountains of dust and spiders as big as your hand!”

Marco’s jaw clenched, he could only take so much yelling this early in the day, “Well what do you want me to do about it? I have work to do.”

Jean threw his hands up in the air, “Yes, I’m sure- whatever the hell you do in here is _terribly_ urgent.” He glared around the room. “ _These_ windows have glass in them,” he mumbled.

Marco put his hand protectively on the stack next to him, “Of course they do, the books might get wet.”

“The books might get wet?” Jean stared at him incredulously, “Well God forbid!” he growled, before storming back out as quickly as he’d come in.

Marco stared after him, “What the hell was that about?”

* * *

 Jean paced angrily down the hall. How could The Duke be so complacent about the state of his own home? Didn't he understand how it reflected on his own prestige? It could be so much more than it was, and he had absolutely no interest.

Jean’s pace slowed as an idea came over him, but he needed to confirm something first. It was a little underhanded, but at this point what more could they do to him? Make him sleep in the cellars? He hurried back to the records room to search.

He looked through the papers on the top of Petra’s desk, what he needed should be right on top of the stack. With a victorious sound, Jean pulled out a copy of the marriage agreement. As he scanned it his grin widened. If Marco wasn’t interested in taking care making the castle presentable, it looked like Jean would just have to take matters into his own hands.

* * *

 Marco pulled himself away from his desk, twisting to stretch his back. He’d been working on translating a difficult text all morning, but now the work was nearly finished.

It had been two weeks since they got back to the castle, and Jean had been relatively calm since his initial outburst.  Marco was surprised at how well he got along with the children. He had mock sword fights with Bee, and asked Dante questions about whatever book he was reading at dinner. Even Kat had taken a liking to him, which was a miracle in itself. He shouldn't have been surprised, Kat was obsessed with court life and the Prince was something of an expert.

His thoughts were interrupted by a monstrous crash outside and Marco jumped, splattering ink across the page he was working on. He swore, gently blotting it. He got up and peered out the window to see a group of workmen setting up a crane by the curtain wall. A man held up a knotted string to a large stone and was calling out measurements.

Jean had mentioned at dinner a few days ago that he wanted to make a few improvements, but this was ridiculous. How was he supposed to study with that racket going on?  He wiped the ink off his fingers and marched down the steps to the hall. When he opened the door his jaw nearly hit the floor. There were people everywhere that he didn't recognize. Men and women carried furniture out the front door, scrubbed the walls and floor, and masons patched the stone. Jean stood in the midst of the chaos, Mina hovering at his elbow with a clipboard. Marco mentally kicked himself for the way his attention was drawn to the Prince’s unbuttoned collar and the way he chewed his lower lip in thought.

 A group of men begin to lower the cast iron chandelier, showering the room in dust.

Jean coughed and waved his hand in front of his face, “Oh for - how long has it been since that's been cleaned?”

“What is going on here?" Marco asked.

Jean brushed a dust bunny off his shoulder and frowned, “Cleaning every inch of this infernal place  before the craftsmen get here. No use In putting nice new tapestries on dirty walls. By the way, you don’t mind if I move some things around in your rooms do you?”

“I suppose it’s fine, but-” Marco shook his head, overwhelmed, “There are men banging around the walls outside.”

Jean nodded, “The repair work on the walls is going to take the longest. I figured they should get started as soon as possible if they’re going to finish before winter comes around again.”

“I can’t concentrate with all the noise; they'll have to stop.”

Jean scratched the back of his head, “I’m afraid we can't do that. they've already been paid.”

Marco cocked his head to the side, “I don’t remember signing off on any payments.”

Jean looked away, “That’s because you didn't. I did.”

" _What?_ "

Jean shrugged, “Well we _are_ married, so what’s yours is mine and what’s mine is yours...from a legal standpoint.”

Marco pressed a hand to his forehead, Jean had a special talent for making his head hurt.  “I… need to get some air.” 

Outside in the yard the chaos was even worse. There were cartloads of stone, wood, and other materials. Workmen pried up the flagstones and replaced the hardware on the doors.

Marco ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm himself. Honestly, it wasn't the money that bothered him. What bothered him was Jean turning his whole life upside down without even asking for his input.

Luckily the stable was still peaceful, and Marco’s anxiety melted away at the comforting smell of hay and horse. Angus put his head over the stall door and Marco scratched the big horse under his jaw.  His love for his horses almost rivaled his love for his books, and Armin always teased him that they were his babies. He called for a groom, and pulled Angus' saddle from the rack. Though the countryside was peaceful he always went out with an escort. A gallop through the meadow would help him relax and give him some time to think.

* * *

Getting out of the castle for a few hours had been just what Marco needed. Refreshed from his ride, he returned to his rooms after stopping in the library to pick up a few books. He found Armin waiting outside the doors to his suite, looking anxious.

“Before you go in, I want you to know this wasn't my idea.”

"What do you mean?" Marco moved past him to the door of his study and dropped the books he was carrying, covering his mouth with both hands. The room was empty. Everything was gone; his books, his papers, even the furniture. He pressed a hand against the door frame and felt like he was going to faint. 

“Armin! What’s going on?”

“It’s alright! I moved everything myself. Everything is still in the exact order you had it in, I promise.”

That eased his panic somewhat, “Moved it where?”

“To the master study, on the library's second floor.”

Marco immediately knew Jean was behind this, “You _helped_ him?”

Armin frowned, “I suppose I should say he was going to move everything with or without my help, so I helped. He said he had your permission.”

Marco groaned and put his face in his hands. “I said he could move some things around, I didn't mean this! What on earth is the matter with him? He’s tearing the whole house apart! Wait,” he said apprehensively, “If he moved my study then what is he going to put in here?”

“I... think he’s planning on using it as a bedroom.”

“What!” Marco shook his head. This was a disaster. Sharing a suite of rooms with the prince would keep them in close proximity _all_ day, and Marco didn't think he could handle it.

“Well it is supposed to be a bedroom," Armin said, "And it’s the second biggest one.”

Marco backed out into his sitting room and slumped in a chair, “I suppose I should be glad he didn't just take my room and be done with it! Where is he now?”

“With the children, getting fitted for clothes.”

Marco couldn’t say he was surprised, the Prince seemed intent on overhauling everything. “Of course he is.” Marco pinched the bridge of his nose, he couldn’t confront him in front of the children. “I've completely lost control of the situation,” he said with dawning horror.

“Well,” Armin suggested, “Maybe if he had some other way to spend his time, he’d ease off with all the... redecorating.”

There had to be something he could come up with to preoccupy him, but what?

* * *

 Jean pointed his toe, unsure about the pair of high heeled shoes he was trying on.

“They’re the latest fashion in Sina,” the shoemaker assured him.

He wobbled slightly as he stood. The shoes were impractical and there was no way they could be worn outdoors, but he liked them all the same.

“Can I have a pair?” Kat asked eagerly from where a seamstress was adjusting the fit of a green velvet gown. The younger children didn't have the patience for longer fittings and had already left to play, but it seemed that Kat shared Jean’s passion for clothes. “You’re sure it’s alright for me to order so many gowns?”

Jean turned, gazing at his reflection in the mirror and admiring the way the tall heel made his legs look, “You should have a few different court gowns just in case your summoned. You’re the heir to a duchy after all, you need to look the part.”

“I’d love to go. I wanted to come for the wedding. I can just picture it. The dancing, the clothing, the music,” she sighed.

“You could get a position there you know,” Jean said thoughtfully, “Maybe as a lady in waiting?”

“I’d have to be invited,” she pouted, “and Marco thinks I’m still too young to go anyway so it doesn't matter.”

Jean snorted, “Too young? I grew up in Sina’s royal court, there’s no such thing as too young. Besides if you’re old enough to train as a knight or a battle commander, you’re old enough to live at court without your brother hovering around.”

Jean’s mouth twisted into a smile as a marvelous idea occurred to him. He rubbed his chin, there might actually be something he could do about that. By the time he got to his writing desk, he already had the letter composed in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bah! I feel like it's such a common trope for Marco to fall in love first, but in this fic it just wasn't realistically going to happen the other way around!
> 
> For anyone who wants a visual, I based Jinae castle off of Spis Castle in Slovakia - It was mostly destroyed in a fire in the 1700s, but it's still one of the largest castles in the world.
> 
> Also, I fully embrace the fact that period fashion lets me put Jean in high heeled shoes... poor Marco.
> 
> rosietheraven on tumblr


	5. Chapter 5

 

_Marco felt a foggy sense of panic. He was laying in bed in his old rooms at the university. He had a lecture to attend! He had to get up but his body wouldn't move right._

_"Stay here," a voice beside him cooed._

_Marco almost jumped out of his skin, Jean was in bed with him! What was Jean doing in bed with him?_ _The Prince pouted and snuggled closer to him, "Stay."  Jean’s lips were warm on his neck._ _Marco tried to move, but it was slow, like moving through water. He shook his head feebly, “We shouldn't.”_

_Jean laughed, leaning up to kiss his mouth and-_

A soft thump brought Marco out of the dream, and he didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed. His mind processed the more pressing issue; someone was in his room. He  jolted upright.

Prince Jean stood in front of his armoire, peering into a drawer. Marco hadn't closed the bed curtains the night before, so he had a clear view of the Prince, who was half naked and still damp from his morning bath. The lavender oil he used perfumed the air, and rivulets of water dripped from his hair down his back to disappear under the drying sheet wrapped around his hips.

Marco shuddered and his teeth dug into his lower lip. He was grateful his blankets were thick, concealing a certain excitable part of his anatomy. He shut his eyes and fell back against his pillows. "What are you doing?"

“Looking for my shirts,” Jean grumbled, “The one they laid out for me is one of yours, it's too big."

Marco rubbed his eyes, he couldn't see how it mattered if Jean wore a shirt that didn't fit perfectly for a single day. "What time is it?"

“After ten.” Jean paused in his rummaging, “You should have let me order you a new bed. You look terrible. Did you even sleep?”

“I stayed up too late.” Marco had woken up around dawn after falling asleep at his desk. He’d staggered back to his room and fallen into bed and passing out again. His eyes drifted open as Jean closed the drawer, draping a shirt over his arm.

"I'll tell Thomas to refill the bath." As Jean left the room, the sheet around his hips brushed along the floor behind him like the train of a gown.  He slipped between the small door that connected their rooms, and Marco sighed in relief as it clicked shut behind him.

He remained under the blankets, trying to will his body's excitement away. He couldn't even do anything about it; at least not without feeling a hefty amount of shame. Besides, Jean could and _did_ wander in and out of Marco’s bedroom whenever he pleased.

He _really_ needed to get a lock put on that door.

 

* * *

 

The practice dummy rattled after Annie struck it with a particularly severe blow. She followed through with a backhanded slash and a chip of wood went flying. On mornings like this, getting up before dawn and smacking something with a sword wasn't only satisfying, it was the only familiar thing left.

Her days blended together into a mind numbing monotony. Practicing, eating, sleeping. She didn't think she’d ever been so bored before in her entire life. The Prince hardly needed guarding; they’d been in Jinae for an entire month and he hadn't set foot outside the castle walls.

Laughter echoed off the castle walls from the larger practice courtyard where the Duke’s guard did their morning training. They’d approached her to join them, but after her continued refusals they’d left her be. Annie preferred solitude. Besides, she couldn't imagine that any of the Duke's guards would provide an adequate challenge for her skill.

There was a soft clack of wood behind her and Annie turned just in time to see a small figure duck behind the wall. She rolled her eyes and went back to work. The Duke’s littlest sister was watching her again. The girl carried a little wooden sword stuck in her belt, and at times Annie caught her copying a stance or a strike out of the corner of her eye. Annie shook her head and ignored the girl, just like she did every day.

 

* * *

 

Enclosed in the sanctuary of his room, Jean kicked off his house shoes and sat down to peel off his embroidered stockings. He’d spent the morning choosing new furnishings for the Great Hall,

He wriggled his toes into the plush carpet that covered the floor.  Other places in the castle he’d left the walls bare, but in the bedrooms and family rooms the walls were now paneled with intricately carved wood.

He pulled on a pair of sturdier socks and soft boots. Now they were in the early days of June, and the weather had warmed up enough to begin more extensive work outside and he didn't want to ruin any of his more delicate footwear.

Jean trotted down the steps to check in with the new head gardener he’d hired. He enjoyed having a hand in the planning, but had to rely on her opinion. All the garden flowers he’d grown up with back in Sina weren't suited to the harsher climate here, and he did not know what plants were suitable. He sighed as he surveyed the ragged shrubs and empty flower beds. It would take years before the plants and shrubs grew enough for it to look like a proper garden, but there was nothing to be done.

A solitary figure was walking down from the castle. Jean lifted a hand to his brow to shade his eyes from the sun, and he was surprised to see the Duke approaching. He wasn’t normally outside this time of day - it was early for him to be leaving on his afternoon ride. Not to mention they were no where near the stables.

As he came closer, Jean sighed internally at the Duke’s attire, a worn green jacket and trousers in an unremarkable shade of brown. The man was completely hopeless.

The gardeners all bowed as he approached, and  Duke stood in place for a moment, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“Yes?” Jean prompted.

"Would you, ah... walk with me?"

Jean couldn't imagine what he wanted. The Duke rarely sought his company - unless it was to fuss about some change Jean had made. The Duke must have a bad case of nerves, he was so... jumpy and skittish. Jean had said as much to Armin, who just rolled his eyes. “He’s only like that around you. You make him anxious.” Jean supposed that he could be intimidating sometimes, but it wasn't something he could help - he was royalty after all.

The Duke twisted his fingers together as they walked up the hill toward the main courtyard.

"I noticed, well you haven’t been out of the castle much. It’s big, but it probably feels confining."

Jean made a noncommittal sound. He tried not to think about it much, and he’d been so busy with the carpenters, the masons, the gardeners- the work of getting the castle in order seemed to never end.

They turned up the path to the massive set of stables. Jean frowned at the sight of the mismatched wood and stone that made up its construction. He itched to have them rebuilt, but his hands were tied. The Duke had been a pushover about most of the improvements, but had put his foot down and threatened dire consequences if Jean interfered with library, the stables, or his bedroom.

Jean wrinkled his nose as they went inside, he wasn't used to the smell. Going to the stables to fetch your own horse was like... going to the kitchen to fetch your own meal. That’s what servants were for.

Clearly the Duke did not feel the same way. He stopped at a stall near the entrance, and gestured inside, "What do you think of him?"

Jean wasn't sure why the Duke wanted his opinion, but he was impressed. The animal put his head over the stall door and Jean held out a hand for him to smell. He was tall, Jean figured he had to be at least seventeen hands. His coat was solid black with no white markings on his face or feet. The horse turned his head to watch as Jean stepped into the stall with him and smoothed a hand along his shoulder. He seemed curious, but not nervous. Jean had seen some impressive horses in his time, but this was one of the best. With his height and distinct coloring, he was worth a fortune. "He's magnificent," Jean said, unable to find any fault.

"Good. Then he's yours."

The Duke's voice was so quiet Jean thought he misheard. He turned toward him in surprise, "What?"

“You ought to have one, and I thought you might like to be able to go out and ride. You should have had one sooner, but I wanted to take the time to find one that was suitable.”

Jean’s chest tightened, “I’m allowed to do that? Leave the castle?”

“I can't see how anyone could object. As long as you go out with a few guards, no one’s going to stop you."

“Oh.” Finding himself at a loss for words, Jean stroked the big horse's mane, who turned to bump his shoulder with his nose. Jean's vision blurred and he pretended to be very interested in a clump of straw by his boot for a few moments to hide his face.

"We'll, I'll leave you to get to know each other then,” Marco said, his footsteps echoing on the stone floor as he retreated.

"Thank you," Jean said quietly, though Marco was already too far away to hear.

 

* * *

 

The next time Marco left on one of his afternoon rides, he cautiously invited Jean along with him and, trying not to seem too eager, the Prince agreed.

Jean hopped up into the saddle and the big horse, who he’d named Goliath, danced in place. A small escort arrayed behind them, and Annie looked ready to spit nails, but Jean was too excited and couldn't bring himself to care. Jean felt a pang in his chest as they rode under the last gate and he shook his head It was ridiculous getting so emotional over going out, but it’d been months since he was this free.

As they rode through the village, the townspeople paused in their chores and bowed, calling out good wishes. Unlike the last time he’d passed through, this time it was easy for Jean to smile and raise his hand in greeting.

As they moved out of town and into the vast grassland that surrounded the castle, the whole group picked up their pace. Sheep and cows in the fields lifted their heads from their grazing and herdsmen removed their hats and ducked their heads. At the far end of the grassland was the edge of a forest. Jean itched to go faster and Goliath fidgeted, sensing his impatience.

Marco twisted in his saddle and grinned at him, "I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to pick up the pace at bit. Race you to the tree line?"

"What?"

Before he could say anything else the Duke whistled and bent forward over his horse's neck. The grey giant he rode thundered forward. Jean cursed. The lightest touch of his heels sent Goliath after them. He heard Annie's angry shout behind them but ignored it, leaning forward in the saddle. They were both fast for animals of their size and It felt like riding an avalanche.

Marco whooped as he passed under the tree first, Jean less than a length behind him. They slowed the horses as they made their way deeper into the forest.

“You started without me,” Jean blustered as he pulled up alongside them, “it wasn't fair!"

Marco laughed, “Lucky we didn’t make a bet on it.” He leaned forward to pat his horse’s neck.

Jean craned his head around to look behind them, the trees had closed in behind them and the guards were completely out of sight.

"Annie will be furious when she catches up,” Marco said.

Jean rolled his eyes, “She's always angry about something, this won't be any different.” The muscles in his thighs twitched. it’d been a long time since he’d ridden, and his body would make him pay for it later. “Beaten by a bookworm,” He grumbled.

Marco shrugged good naturedly, “I’d lose my mind if I didn't leave the library sometimes. I've always liked horses, and my mother wasn't the type to let me sit indoors all day.”

“She was in the army wasn't she?” Jean asked. He immediately wanted to kick himself for bringing it up. She’d died fighting in the war between their countries.

If Marco was upset he didn’t show it. He smiled faintly,  “Yes. She was proud of us, but I think she was a little disappointed that none of us ended up being warriors like her.”

“I don’t know about that,” Jean said, “Bianca got me pretty good with that stick of hers the other day.” Jean grasped for something else to say, before the conversation took another melancholy turn. “What the hell do you do in that library all day? Looking for a secret recipe for gold?”

Marco shook his head, bemused. "Nothing so fanciful. I translate texts from foreign languages.”

"How many do you speak?"

"Ah... seven?"

Jean’s mouth dropped open, "Seven!"

Marco flushed and rubbed the back of his head, "Well I'm only really fluent in three. The others I can get along well enough, but my accent is atrocious. Translating from other contemporary languages is useful, but the best is when I can get my hands on something really old. Some ancient text in a language people don’t even speak anymore. It’s fascinating, trying to puzzle it all out.”

Jean frowned, “That sounds impossible.”

“It isn’t! I mean it’s difficult, but I’m making headway. Right now I’m working on what seems like a religious text of some kind...”

Jean only half understood what Marco was describing, but watching him be so unreserved and animated for once was wonderful to see. His eyes lit up the hand that wasn't holding the reigns steady gestured with wild abandon. Jean turned his face away to hide a grin. Apparently once you got him started, Marco was just as much of a chatterbox as Kat.

Marco paused abruptly, “I’m sorry, this is probably all terribly dull-”

“No!” Jean interrupted, “Not at all! If even one of my tutors had been as passionate as you are about learning I’d… well I’d know a lot more than I do. It was so hard to concentrate on lessons when there were so many more exciting things going on at court.  Banquets, balls, tournaments, guards to flirt with...” he sighed wistfully.

Marco cleared his throat and  looked away, “Living in the country after all of that is probably.. ah…”

“It’s… different,” Jean said.

The silence stretched between them and Marco struggled and failed to think of something to say. He glanced up at the sun through an opening in the branches overhead, “It’s getting late, we ought to turn back and find the others.”

 

* * *

 

Later that night, Marco sat in his armchair by the fire, reading with a stack of his notes on the table beside him. They’d settled into the routine of sitting together in the family solar after dinner.  The younger children had gone upstairs to bed. Jean played a game of cards with Kat, Armin, and Petra. He scowled down at his hand and cursed softly. Marco was grateful they weren't playing for money, otherwise Armin would have half his fortune by now.

A footman came into the room, hesitating by the doorway.  "Excuse me your Highness, but a letter came for you." Jean threw down his cards and reached for it. Marco saw the seal of the royal family on the envelope. What was a member of the royal family doing writing to Jean?

The prince broke the seal and as he read his excitement grew.

“Well what is it?” Marco asked.

“I have here,” he said, gesturing with the letter, “An invitation for Lady Katerina Bodt to come to court and serve Princess Mikasa as a lady in waiting.”

Kat’s card’s spilled into her lap, “What?” She sat in shock for a moment before jumping to her feet and squealing. “Really? You mean it!”

Jean’s smile grew bigger, "Of course I mean it!"

“I’m going to be a lady in waiting to the Princess!” She wrapped her arms around his neck. Jean was so surprised by the outburst of affection he didn't immediately return the gesture.

Marco blinked and closed his book, “Wait, what?”

Kat jumped up and down with excitement, “Jean wrote to ask if I could and she said yes! I'm going to go live at court!”

“You did what?” Marco asked.

“It was nothing,” Jean said, smiling smugly.

Petra smiled, “Well! That is exciting isn’t it?”

Marco slapped the book he’d been reading down on an end table with a bang. The conversation halted, the others stupefied into silence by his outburst of temper.

“You’re not going,” Marco said.

Kat deflated, "But-"

Marco shook his head, "You knew I wouldn't like this. You knew I'd say no, so you did it behind my back!"

Jean pushed himself up from his chair. "Don't get mad at her, she didn't do anything."

Marco turned to glare at him, “No, I suppose she didn’t. Kat go to your room."

"But-"

"Now!"

Kat hiked up her skirts and fled and the others hurried after, leaving Jean and Marco alone.

“Well done,” Jean snapped, “She was over the moon, and you ruined it.”

“I can’t believe you,” Marco said,  “You’re so arrogant, you had no right to-”

“What’s the harm?” Jean interrupted, "All of you are always going on about how she should make something of herself, and It’s obvious she’s not happy here.”

“You don’t get to make decisions like this! She’s my sister!”

Jean lifted his hands in mock surrender, “Well then clearly you know what’s best-”

Marco stood,  “You want to rearrange the furniture and spend my money?” he said coldly, “Fine, but you do not get to make decisions about my family behind my back. Do anything like this again and I’ll make you sorry.”

Jean sneered. He lifted a hand and for a moment Marco thought he was going to hit him. Instead he grabbed the edge of the delicate end table with Marco’s notes on it and tipped it over. Papers scattered everywhere, and the half empty teacup spilled all over the new carpet. “Fuck you,” he hissed, and stormed out without another word.

 

* * *

 

Jean slammed the door to his bedroom and twisted the key in the lock. He kicked off his shoes in a fit of temper and one of them struck the wall with a loud thud. He’d thought Marco was different but they were all the same, these foreigners who tried to control him with their threats.

He was even angrier with himself then he was with the Duke. He’d been such a fool to feel at home here, to feel like he was part of things. Jean crawled into bed and covered his face with his hands. This place wasn't his home, and he was stupid for letting himself forget it.

 

* * *

 

Armin, who’d lurked in the hall to eavesdrop, pressed himself against the wall as Jean stormed past and waited a minute before going back into the room.

Marco knelt on the carpet, putting his things back in order and muttering to himself, “Stupid, selfish, childish-”

Armin cleared his throat.

Marco looked up and frowned, "I don't want to talk about it Armin."

Armin sighed and knelt down to help. Some of the papers were damp with tea and would have to be recopied. He waited for some of the tension to leave Marco’s shoulders before speaking, “You can’t refuse now that Mikasa’s requested her.”

“So they go against my wishes, and I’m supposed to give them what they want?”

“If they found out Jean wrote to her without you knowing,” Armin answered, “They might think you can't control him."

Marco’s shoulders drooped.

“It really isn't as bad as you're thinking,” Armin continued, “It's a good opportunity for her. She'll meet other people her own age. She'll be learning how to run a household and how to behave like lady.”

Marco snorted, “So you think this is a good idea too, do you?”

“Yes,” Armin said, “But they should have told you.”

Marco sat back on his hands. He looked terrified, "They're my responsibility Armin! I promised-” he stopped to rub his face, “I promised I’d take care of them. That I’d protect them. If anything happens to any of them-"

Armin put a hand on his shoulder, “Do you think Mikasa, Eren, or the King for that matter, will let anything happen to her? She’s family. You think anyone would dare hurt her?”

Marco ran his fingers through his hair, “You’re right. I should go upstairs and talk to Kat. I shouldn't have lost my temper with her.” Marco sighed, looking around at the mess. “I’d better sleep in my study tonight, or else his royal highness might kill me in my sleep.”

Armin shook his head, “He’ll cool off. Just leave him be for a while.”

Marco sighed and shook his head, things had been going so well too.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to make you all wait - it took a long time for this chapter to really come together. If anyone's curious the breed of horse I modeled Angus and Goliath off of is the Irish draft Cross - SO BIG.
> 
> I appreciate kudos and comments on this and all my stories SO much you guys have no idea. Thank you so much for reading! 
> 
> Tumblr: rosietheraven


	6. Chapter 6

Annie stretched her arms up over her head, glad to be out in the fresh morning air. The atmosphere inside the castle remained tense from the Prince and the Duke’s quarrel the night before.

The sound of ringing steel made her pause in front of the main practice yard. Three pairs of young men and women were sparring while Captain Bertholdt stood to one side, observing. He occasionally stepped forward to correct a stance, or offer instruction in a soft voice. Annie frowned, the girl standing closest to her had her feet too close together. She watched Bertholdt correct her twice, but her feet kept shifting back to where they’d been.

Annie purposefully stepped forward and shoved the girl with her shoulder. Her unbalanced stance made it easy to send the girl sprawling. She looked up at Annie, mouth opening and closing like a fish and everyone else turned to stare.

“What are you doing?”

Annie slid her thumbs into her belt, “Is this how you train swordsmen up here?”

Bertholdt’s arms crossed over his chest, “They’re still learning.”

Annie turned her head and spat.

He stepped closer, his voice low, “Maybe you’d like to pick on someone with a little more experience?”

Annie’s eyes narrowed, “I would.”

The trainees hopped over the fence surrounding the yard, watching wide eyed. Annie selected a suitable practice blade and took up her stance. Big men always underestimated her. Seeing the look on his face when she knocked him down in the dirt in front of all his soldiers was going to be fun.

The Captain held his longsword in a two handed stance, but looked like he could easily wield it with just one. Annie stepped forward, sweeping her blade to cut at his right and then his left. He met her strikes, turning them calmly aside. She picked up the pace, blade snaking out, looking for openings but he met every one of them. He was faster than she’d thought and wasn’t having trouble keeping up with her.

Bertholdt shifted to a one handed grip and moved to the offensive, slicing at her side. She grimaced as the shock of the blow rattled up her arm. When his next swing came she twisted out of the way instead of blocking. It was infuriating to admit it,  but he was better than she’d anticipated. As they continued to exchange blows, neither of them gaining an advantage, Annie’s strength started to flag. Bertholdt was tiring too, sweat beading on his forehead.

She needed to put an end to this before her strength gave out. Parrying his sword to the outside, she stepped inside his guard. She turned, bringing up her sword and his knee plowed into her gut, knocking the breath out of her.  She flew back and a ringing thwack sounded in her ears and her sword clattered to the ground.

A chorus of alarmed voices cried out. Annie wheezed.  It hurt to breathe and the back of her head throbbed. She opened her eyes only to hiss and close them again.

“Annie?”  

She squinted. Armin peered down at her anxiously. When had he gotten there? She waved him away, “I’m fine.”  She tried to push herself up but sat back down as a wave of dizziness washed over her.

Armin shook his head, “Help me get her inside.”

Bertholdt scooped her up off the dirt, tucking an arm around her shoulders and under her knees. “Don’t,” she protested, “Don’t pick me up. I’m fine.”

“You are not,” Armin said sternly. He led the way into the empty dining hall. Bertholdt set her down on the edge of a table. She wavered a bit, but was able to sit up.

“What hurts?”

“My head.” She touched the back of her skull and hissed in pain. Her fingers came away bloody.

“Here,” Armin produced a clean handkerchief and thrust it at Bertholdt. “Press that over the cut. I’m going to fetch something to clean it properly. Don’t let her wander off.” He hurried out, and the door banged shut behind him.

“You’re both making a big fuss over nothing.” Annie grumbled. She tilted her head forward, hair falling around her face. Bertholdt pressed the cloth over the cut, his touch tentative as if he were afraid of doing more damage.

“Put more pressure on it,” she said, “Or I’m going to keep bleeding everywhere.”

He sighed anxiously, “I’m really sorry about all this.”

“It was a reaction,” she said grudgingly, “In a real fight I would have gutted you if you hadn't done it.”

She looked up at him through her hair. The captain was worrying his lower lip with his teeth, brows drawn together.  His eyes were interesting, she hadn't noticed before, but they were dark blue. An odd color considering the rest of his features.

Bertholdt caught her looking at him, but his eyes quickly darted away, “I knew you were good, but-” he let out a wistful sigh, “That could have gone either way at the end. You almost had me.”

Annie wrinkled her nose. _Almost_ beating him wasn't good enough.

 

* * *

 

In the end, Annie had to put up with nearly an hour of Armin’s fussing, though he’d finally determined that she didn't need stitches. She’d escaped with a ridiculous looking bandage tied around her head and ointment that stung. While she’d been inside, dark clouds and crept into the sky to block out the sun. So much for spending the day out in the sunshine. She noticed a familiar little head of dark hair lurking outside the door. Annie paused and sighed before looking down at the girl and lifting an eyebrow.

Bianca, the Duke’s youngest sister, scuffed her foot in the dirt. “Were you hurt bad?”

Annie shrugged uncomfortably, “Not really.”

“You were really brave.”

Annie’s mouth twisted, remembering how cocky she’d been,  “No I wasn't.”

The girl looked up at her wide-eyed, “He’s so big though. Weren't  you scared?”

“I’m used to fighting people who are bigger than me. Almost everyone is.”

The girl looked sideways and chewed on her lower lip. Annie bit back her impatience for the kid to just spit it out already. “Would you teach me how?” she abruptly asked.

Annie shook her head, “You should ask Captain Bertholdt.”

“I want you to teach me.” She lifted her chin and looked Annie in the eye, “You said everyone’s bigger than you - and everyone’s bigger than me too. I want to learn how to fight the way you do.”

Annie sighed and rubbed her forehead. Bianca kept staring up at her, hopeful and stubborn.

Annie frowned and stuffed her hands in her belt, “It’s going to be hard. You’ll have to work at it every day, even when you don’t feel like it. You’ll get hurt too. Cuts, bruises, probably worse.”

Bianca crossed her arms over her chest, “I’m not scared.”

Annie let out a breath, “Fine. If the Duke gives permission then I’ll teach you.” She glanced up at the darkening sky, “Now get inside, it’s going to rain.”

“Really? Oh thank you thank you!” She jumped up and dashed off, turning back around to execute something that was halfway between a bow and a curtsy.

Annie turned back toward the barracks, not completely sure how or why she’d let herself get roped into training a child.

 

* * *

 

“She wants Annie to teach her?” Marco tapped his nails on the desk, “I don’t know about this.”

“Annie’s harsh and she definitely won’t coddle her, but she’s one of the best.” Armin said. “She’s in the royal guard for a reason.”

Marco crossed his arms over his chest, “We’ll see how it goes.” He hesitated before asking, “Have you seen Jean at all today?”

Armin shrugged, “No. He’s probably sulking somewhere.”

Marco climbed the stairs to his bedroom. Outside, the sky was covered in dark clouds that had been gathering all afternoon. The Spring storms in these parts could be dangerous, with heavy rain and high wind, not to mention thunder and lightning. He took a taper and lit the candelabra on his desk.

His eyes lingered on the door to Jean’s room. He hadn’t seen him at all since they’d fought the night before. He wanted to give the Prince some space, but at the same time he didn’t want to leave things unsettled between them. Marco tapped on the door connecting their rooms. He at least wanted to apologize for losing his temper. “Are you there?” He opened the door hesitantly. Though Jean always came in and out of his room on a whim, he’d never been in the Prince’s room. It didn't feel right, stepping into his space.

Jean’s bedroom was dark, but the light from the door illuminated his perfectly made bed. It quickly became apparent that the Prince was not there.

Marco stepped out into the hall and nearly ran into one of the servants, “Mina, do you know where the Prince is?”

“He said he was going for a walk in the lower gardens,” she said. As she spoke, thunder boomed outside the window, and raindrops spattered on the glass. “I should lay out some dry clothes,” she mused.

There was a commotion down the hall, “Your Grace? I need to speak to the Duke!”

Marco frowned as he recognized the head groom. It was usually impossible to pry the man away from the stables, what was he doing here? Marco waved him forward, “What is it?”

The groom clutched his cap in both hands, “Well, I took the Prince’s horse out for exercise, and his Highness saw and said he’d do it himself - he was out for a walk anyway… and well that was two hours ago. I went to the garden to look and couldn't see him anywhere Your Grace.”

Dread filled the pit of Marco’s stomach, “Thank you for telling me. Go to Captain Bertholdt and tell him what you just told me.”

As the castle guards began to search the grounds, Marco paced in the entryway. He tried to remain calm. The gardens were large, it was entirely possible no one had spotted Jean yet. Maybe he was waiting out the rain in one of the outbuildings.

The Hall door boomed open and Captain Bertholdt stepped inside. His cloak was dripping on the floor and his face looked grim, “We went to the lower garden and found one of the old side gates to the outside wall open. We can’t find his Highness anywhere.”

Marco tried to quash his rising panic, “We have to find him. We have to organize a search outside the castle immediately.”

“I’ll mobilize the guards,” Bertholdt said, dashing out the door.

Marco called for his cloak and for his horse to be saddled as the rain outside turned into a torrent. They had to find Jean, and quickly.

 

* * *

 

Escaping had been an impulsive decision, not at all what Jean had planned to do when he went to exercise his horse in the gardens.

His first thought when he’d seen the unguarded gate was that he needed to speak to Captain Bertholdt about how the new recruits were coming along. It was barred, but unguarded. Anyone could open it from the inside to let someone in.

Or out.

The only thing between him and freedom had been the thick oak bar over the door, which he was able to heave up and out of its brackets. The door hadn’t been used it a long time and it took a great deal of shoving and swearing to get it open wide enough to lead his horse through. Once outside, Jean galloped for the woods, praying he wouldn’t be seen from the walls. The thickly wooded forest seemed like a better bet than the open road.

As he plunged into the trees, Jean began to form a plan. Instead of going South, which they’d expect, he’d ride North, to Stohess. Going there was a risk, the inhabitants of the far northern country were hostile toward outsiders. On the other hand, they hated the Shiganshinans, and Jean was certain they would refuse to hand him back over to King Erwin, out of sheer spite if nothing else.  

Jean shivered in the saddle, his thin cloak completely soaked through. The rain was miserable, but at least it would wash away his tracks and make him harder to follow. He wondered if anyone at the castle had even realized he was gone yet. He hadn’t seen anyone but servants since the night before. He tugged his hood closer down over his eyes. The rain was coming down in sheets and he could barely see.

Suddenly, there was a violent crack and a brilliant flash of light as lightning struck a nearby tree. Goliath reared and screamed, and Jean clung to his neck to stay in the saddle. The stallion bolted headlong through the trees. Jean pulled on the reins, trying frantically to slow him down. He never saw the tree branch that sent him flying from the saddle. There was a blinding pain in his head, and then nothing but blackness.

 

* * *

 

Marco pulled his hood down over his face in a futile attempt to keep the rain off. Angus shook his mane, sending water droplets flying and Marco leaned forward to pat the horse’s neck. Even deep in the woods the trees overhead did little to keep the water off.

The herdsman who tended a flock of sheep outside the forest had seen a man on a large black horse enter this forest. Following the Prince’s tracks in the rain was next to impossible, but they had to try. Though he couldn't see them, Marco heard the guards spread out under the trees, calling out to each other.

A horse neighed in the distance and Angus perked up his ears and returned the call. Marco turned them toward the sound, faint hope swelling in his chest.

He spotted Goliath first. The big black horse lifted his head and whinnied again as they came close, drenched and unhappy.

“Over here!” he shouted.

Marco froze at the sight of a figure laying still and prone on the ground. He pressed a fist to his mouth. _Oh no, please no._

Annie burst into the clearing and flung herself out of the saddle, Bertholdt close behind her. She gently turned the Prince over. “He’s alive!” she called, her voice broken with relief.

Bertholdt swore, “He’s freezing, we have to get him back to the castle.”

Marco tied the reins to the pommel of his saddle, “Hand him up, Angus can carry both of us.”

Jean groaned as Bertholdt lifted him up into Marco’s arms. He was limp and pale. A nasty cut on his forehead bled sluggishly.

Marco held him up, tenderly cupping his chin in one hand. “Jean? Can you hear me?” His cheek was icy cold. Jean’s eyes opened briefly, but then he shuddered and closed them again. Marco pulled his shivering body close, wrapping his cloak around them both.

Holding him tightly, Marco turned his horse back to the castle.

 

* * *

 

Jean opened his eyes with a groan. The soft light of dawn was coming through the windows and birds were chirping. His entire body ached, and his night clothes and bedding were soaked with sweat. The last thing he remembered was the woods, the storm, and Marco finding him. The rest was a blur of pain and cold.

The Duke was dozing in a chair next to his bed. There was a book on the floor that looked like it had fallen out of his hands. Someone had put a blanket on him while he slept. A particularly noisome bird trilled and Marco came awake, rubbing his eyes.

“You look terrible,” Jean said, his voice scratchy.

Marco pushed the blanket off of himself and stretched. He sat heavily on the edge of Jean’s bed and put a hand to his forehead. Jean’s eyes closed at the touch, Marco’s hand was dry and cool. “You still have a fever, but at least you’re awake.”

"How long have I been..."

"Two days," Marco said.

Jean sighed. “So, how much trouble am I in for running away?”

Marco took his hand away, “That’s your first question?”

“If I’m getting moved to the dungeon that’s going to be very disappointing.”

Marco clenched his fingers and shook his head, “I don’t care. I should but I don’t.” He slumped forward, “God, when we found you,” Marco closed his eyes and shook his head, “I thought you were dead. Even once we got you back to the castle, you were so cold at first and then... burning with fever. We weren't sure you'd make it.”

Jean leaned back and closed his eyes, “It wouldn't have mattered if I hadn't. No one cares.”

Jean was taken aback, eyes flying open as Marco seized one of his hands in a tight grip. “Don’t say that! Of course it would have mattered,” Marco said fiercely. “If anything had happened to you it would have… I would have...”

Jean’s chin began to tremble. He closed his eyes and turned his face into the pillow.

“I’m sorry,” Marco said. Jean felt the Duke’s hand brush his temple,  “I didn't mean to make you upset. I’m just glad you’re safe.”

Jean wiped the corner of his eyes with his sleeve, “No, it’s not you I’m just… I’m just tired.”

“Of course,” Marco sucked in a ragged sounding breath and stood, releasing Jean’s hand. “I’ll have them bring you something to eat since you’re awake. You should keep your strength up.” He trudged toward the door.

"... Marco?" It sounded odd, to call him by name.

The Duke paused in the doorway and turned back. His clothes were rumpled and his eyes were red. Jean wondered how long he had spent sitting by his bedside.

“Thank you,” Jean said quietly.

 Marco smiled. “Like I said, I'm just glad we got you back safe.”

The door clicked shut behind him and Jean pulled the blankets over his head. He felt a wave of embarrassment. What had he been thinking, running off with no plan and no supplies. If they hadn't found him as quickly as they had, he would have died. And the look on the Duke's face. Jean couldn't stand to think about it. These people were his jailers. He wasn't _supposed_ to care if he hurt them.

But he was finding that he did.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew that took a long time! 
> 
> I finished the first draft of this chapter a month ago but what I had written was just... not working. I had to change my outline and re-write the whole thing. 
> 
> [rosietheraven](http://rosietheraven.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


	7. Chapter 7

The sun beat down overhead, and Jean resisted the urge to wipe the sweat from his forehead. He had to stay focused or-

Annie’s practice sword smacked against his ribs. His fingers clenched, keeping him from dropping the dagger in his left hand. He backed up a few steps, lifting his sword into guard position.

Not giving him any time to recover, Annie darted to the side. She kicked the back of his leg and sent him sprawling into the dust. Before he could get up, her swordpoint was at his throat.

Jean lifted his hands in surrender, “Alright, alright!  You win again.”  He rolled onto his back, hand over his aching ribs.

Annie turned, to Bianca, who perched on the fence nearby. “What did he do wrong?”

Bianca bit her lower lip, “He left his side open and you got behind him.”

“And what do you think made him so careless?”

Bianca’s brows drew together, “He thought he was winning?” She said hesitantly.

Annie nodded approvingly, “Don’t get cocky. Especially when you are up against someone better than you.”

Jean scoffed behind her back, leaning against the fence for a moment to catch his breath. He’d gotten rusty when it came to swordplay. It was taking time for his body to fall back into its old patterns.

He fought in the Sinan style, with a sword in one hand and a dagger in the other. Most of the Shiganshinans used a sword and shield, or a two handed weapon. They hit hard and fast. Every once and awhile he managed to win, but it happened rarely, and never against Annie and Bertholdt.

Annie raised an eyebrow, “Are you ready to go again, or do you need to stop?”

“Of course.” Despite the ache in his sword arm, Jean moved into position. At the same instant , they went at each other again. Jean focused, shutting out all the outside sounds until there was nothing but the scuffling of their boots and the metallic hiss of their sword blades. Annie was small, but frighteningly quick. She flicked her blade and Jean’s dagger flew out of his hand, leaving his left side unprotected. She whipped her sword around toward his head. Jean’s empty hand shot up and seized the practice blade. He winced at the impact, but it slowed the strike enough to give him time to get his neck and face out of its path. Unfazed, Annie swung her sword around to the other side, smacking him in the thigh. Jean cursed and fell to his knees; another loss.

Annie pushed her damp hair out of her face, “If that sword  was sharp I would have sliced your hand open to the bone.”

Jean rubbed the hand in question, inspecting the vibrant red mark on his palm. It wasn’t bleeding, but the skin stung and seemed likely to turn into a welt. “Better a cut hand then a cut throat.”

Annie snorted, “Better to not get hit at all. I think that’s enough for today.”

Jean nodded. His limbs ached, and his left hand was going to bruise spectacularly. He wandered over to the well, making Bianca laugh as he dumped an entire bucket of water over his head. He gasped as the icy water sluiced over his shoulders.

“How did you catch the sword like that?” she asked.

Jean shook the water from his hair, “Practice. Same as anything else,” He hissed, opening and closing his fingers. “The swords they use up here are heavier than what I’m used to tough,” he said, tapping the slim blade of his rapier.

“Can you teach me?”

Jean scratched his chin, “If Annie  says it’s alright we’ll give it a go. She’s right though, it’s not something you want to do unless you have no other choice-”

“Marco!” Bianca’s face lit up and she dashed past him.

Sure enough, Marco walking toward them, his riding jacket slung over one arm. He lifted a hand to shade his eyes.

“Hello Bee, How was practice?”

“Jean fought Annie seven times today!”

His eyes glinted with good natured amusement as he took in Jean’s soggy apparel, “Didn’t get beaten too badly I hope.” His smile was dazzling despite the miserable heat.

Jean self consciously combed his fingers through his hair, “I’m out of practice. That’s all”

“I’m surprised you aren’t supervising the packing.”

“I was told in no uncertain terms that my presence was not helping.” Jean rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand, “I don’t know how you can be so calm about all of this.”

Marco let out a short and humorless laugh, “Just because I’m not running around and sticking my nose into everything doesn’t mean I’m not worried.”

“I’m sure the journey will be fine. Petra and Mina seem to have everything in hand.”

The warm press of Marco’s hand on his arm made him jump, “Careful,” Jean muttered, “I’m all… soggy.”

Marco’s laughed, “I’ve been in the stables all morning,” He said as he linked their arms together, “I’m pretty sure I’m dirtier than you.”

His choice of phrasing almost resulted in Jean choking on his own tongue.

 

* * *

 

Annie pulled her gauntlets off, flexing her fingers as she returned back to her quarters. Jean was actually a good swordsman, but the last thing he needed was to be told that. She paused in front of Bertholdt’s office at the sound of his pen scratching. He was bent over the guard roster, frowning down at the paper.

“All prepared for tomorrow?” she asked.

“Yes,” He stretched his arms up over his head. “I don’t like leaving the castle this time of year. Summer is when the Stohessians do the most raiding.”

“The border’s been quiet this year, hasn’t it?”

“That’s what makes me uneasy. Usually we’d be riding out every few weeks to help the local guards defend the villages close to the border, but this year they’ve hardly made a move.”

“They’re just a bunch of savage clans, aren’t they?”

“That doesn’t mean they aren’t dangerous.” His gaze turned out the window, “They’re monsters. The strike quickly, killing, burning crops, stealing children and then running back over the border. And every few years one of the clan chiefs will get it into his head that he’s in charge of the rest of them, and then we have multiple clans banding together and pouring down south.”  He rubbed his forehead, “Sorry, I’m rambling.”

She moved to stand by his elbow. “No, I didn’t realize.”  She nudged him with her hip, “You’ll only be gone for a few days. The rest of us will take care of the place while you escort Lady Kat to court.”

Bertholdt chewed his lower lip, “It’s my job to worry, sometimes I don’t know when to quit.”

She turned, sitting on the corner of his desk, “Are you on duty tonight?”

“No”

She drummed her fingers on the desk and slowly met his gaze. His eyes were very blue. She might have waxed poetic about them if she had the ability. “My evenings have been a bit dull lately, I was wondering if you’d like to keep me company?”

He scratched the back of his head, “Okay. I don’t think I’m very entertaining-”

“Bertholdt.” She leaned forward, “That’s not what I meant.”

His mouth hung open slightly, “Oh. Oh you… oh.”

“See you later then?”

He nodded dumbly. Annie slid off the desk and retreated. She’d never seen a man that big blush so hard before. It was cute.

* * *

 Marco wasn’t given to drinking as a rule, but tonight felt like an exception. He sat in front of the tall glass window in the parlor, nursing a glass of wine. He couldn’t sleep, his mind was too restless. He knew he shouldn’t worry for Kat, but he couldn’t help himself.

“What are you doing?”

Marco jumped. Jean was leaning against the door frame, looking vaguely irritated.

Marco felt his cheeks burn, “I didn’t wake you up did I?”

Jean slid away from the door. His red and gold robe billowed out as he grabbed the wine bottle. “You know, it’s bad taste to drink alone, right?” He took a clean glass from the serving tray and poured himself a generous amount.

Marco smiled, “You’re right. clearly I wasn’t thinking about my reputation at all.”

Jean took a large gulp, “This is the good stuff, isn’t it?” They sat quietly for a time, “She’ll be fine.”

“I know, he pressed his hand into his forehead, “But still,” Marco swirled the wine left in his glass, “Help me finish this bottle?”

* * *

 Marco wasn’t sure what time it was. They’d finished off the bottle and then decided to open another. He was very pleasantly relaxed, slumped back on his elbows, gazing up at the stars. “It’s nights like this when I wonder if I’m going the right thing. With my siblings I mean. I don’t know if my mother would be proud, or disappointed, or… what.”

“I can’t really say. I don’t have any.” Jean frowned up at the sky, “I didn’t really know my mother either.”

Marco hummed sympathetically and let his head flop to the side, “I’m sorry.”

Jean was silent for a few moments before laughing softly, “Do you want to know something funny”

“What?”

“Well, my grandparents did a good job of keeping it quiet, but what happened is she had been sleeping with her captain of the guard-”

Marco giggled, “What?”

“It’s true! My grandparents quietly passed a legal declaration that I was a legitimate son of the princess-”

“Legitimate?”

Jean grinned, “Well they weren’t exactly married.”

Marco clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh, “Oh my god!” He was overcome with a sudden realization and lightly punched Jean’s arm, “You are literally a bastard.”

Jean snorted into his wine, “No,” he wagged a finger, “By law I am a legitimate member of the Sinan Royal Family. My mother’s friends started a rumor they had married in secret before I was born. My father was happy to go along with it.”

“I haven’t heard much about him. He’s not prominent at court is he?”

Jean sighed, “He’s… well he wasn’t… He was happy to let my grandparents and Uncle Nile raise me. I’ve met him a few times but,” Jean sighed and took another gulp of wine. “He prefers the military.”

Jean closed his eyes and leaned back, “Siblings would be nice though. You know, Dante might actually be even smarter than you.”

“Oh really?”

“He beats me at chess more often.”

Marco rolled onto his side to squint at him, “How do you know I'm not letting you win?”

Jean’s cheeks turned pink, “You- I don’t need pity wins!”

Marco squeezed his arm, “I’m sorry, l was just teasing.”

Jean looked slightly mollified by the apology. He could be extremely prickly, but Marco was starting to learn how to smooth his ruffled feathers. Jean’s head slumped to rest against his shoulder and Marco’s breath caught in his throat for a moment.

“And Bee is a little monster with that practice sword of hers,” Jean continued. “I don't think I have ever heard her complain about practice, and let me tell you Annie’s not an easy teacher.”

Marco sighed, “Mother would be proud that at least one of us is following in her footsteps. I worry so much about doing the right thing for them. I wonder what she would think if she were here.”

Jean turned his face up to look up at him, “I’m sure she’d be proud of you.”

Marco could smell the scent of the lavender soap Jean used in his hair. He was so close. Marco’s eyes were drawn to his lips. He wasn’t sure what possessed him in that moment and ruined the self control he’d worked so hard to maintain, but he bent down and kissed him gently on the lips.

Jean gasped against his mouth, body stiffening in surprise, but he didn’t pull away.

Marco quickly pulled back and Jean sat up and blinked slowly, eyes slightly vacant, “... Oh.”

Marco pressed a hand to his forehead, “I’m so sorry, I’m an idiot-”

He was interrupted when Jean grasped his chin and pulled him back down into another kiss. Marco felt like he’d been struck by lightning, his entire body alive with energy. Jean’s lips parted and Marco couldn’t hold back a groan. His hand came up to cup the back of Jean’s head as the kiss deepened.

Marco pulled back abruptly. “Are you… I mean… is this okay?”

Jean was breathing hard and he looked slightly irritated. He wrapped his arms around Marco’s shoulders before sinking down onto his back, pulling him along. “You are really too polite sometimes.”  Jean tilted his chin up, and Marco leaned down to kiss the column of his throat.

Jean groaned, teeth digging into his lower lip. his whole body felt like it was on fire. He smoothed his hands down Marco’s back, feeling the muscle there  When he was with Marco he felt happy, safe, and he could almost forget that if it was his choice he never would have come here. He wanted to let go, he wanted to forget, even if it was just for a while.under his fingertips. His toes curled when Marco nibbled at his collar bone.

Marco’s hands moved slowly and deliberately, mapping out the plains of his back, his arms, his chest. The slow pace was starting to drive Jean up the wall. He made an impatient sound in his throat and rolled his hips.

Marco pulled back, cheeks red and breathing hard, “Jean.” He clenched his fingers trying to bring his control back, “We’ve both had a lot to drink…”

Jean leaned up, lips against his ear. “You can stop if you want, but don't you dare try to be responsible for me.” He hooked a leg around Marco’s waist. “I know what I want.”

Marco let the last of his inhibitions fall away. He hiked Jean’s leg up higher and let his hands drift to more intimate places.

 

* * *

 

Marco pulled the blanket tighter around himself. The weather had gotten colder over the past few weeks, and there was a nasty chill in the air. The mattress creaked beside him and he felt the pleasant sensation of Jean’s lips on his neck.

“You’re up early.”

Jean hummed against his skin, tucking an arm around his chest. “We’re going to have to start lighting a fire in here again.”

Marco rolled over to face him, “That or you could start sleeping with clothes on.”

Jean stretched his arms over his head, blanket sliding perilously down toward his hips. He smirked, “I don’t think either of us want that.”

Marco laced their hands together, pinning him lightly. “I don’t think I’m ready to let you out of bed yet.” You’d think after a few weeks he would be less hungry for him, but he. couldn’t imagine ever being tired of this

They were interrupted by Dante’s voice out in the hall, “Marco! Jean! There are horses coming up the road! Come see!”

Jean swore and Marco groaned and pulled away. “Well, I suppose we’re up whether we like it or not.” He slid out of bed toward his room to find trousers and a clean shirt.

“Marco?” There was a waiver in Jean’s voice that brought him quickly back. His fingers holding back the curtain were white. There was a whole troop of soldiers coming up the road, flying the King’s banner.

“Stay here, I’ll see what they want.”

Jean nodded dumbly, cravat still hanging untied around his neck.

Half the castle was up against the windows, trying to get a good look. Marco was at the front steps of the keep when the soldiers came to a halt outside.

The lead rider pulled off his helm.

Marco swallowed, “Captain Levi, what brings you here.”

The Captain had never been the type of man to mince words, “Your Grace, Sina has broken the treaty. We are here to take Prince Jean into custody.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much thanks to anyone still reading this fic. 
> 
> We're in the home stretch now, and I like the end of this fic way too much to not post it. This thing WILL be complete... eventually.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I updated the rating, because there IS some violence in this chapter. It's not graphic, but I wanted to give people who are sensitive to that type of thing a heads up!

Jean was too numb to think of fighting or running when the guards came to escort him down the stairs. His breath came short and the air roared in his ears. Marco was shouting, which was odd. Marco hardly ever raised his voice. It wasn’t until he saw the reinforced carriage in front of him that he firmly dug in his heels. “Wait,” he turned to Captain Levi, “There has to be a mistake! My Uncle wouldn’t do this, he wants peace!”

Captain Levi’s mouth was set in a grim line, “There are warships flying Sinan colors on the west coast, well within our borders. There’s no mistake.”

Jean’s heart sank. This couldn’t be happening. His Uncle knew what would happen to him if he broke the treaty. _You’re just a nephew_ , a dark part of his mind spat, _useless at best, and at worst a rival against his children for the throne_.

The cramped coach loomed in front of him. Jean thought he was going to be sick, he couldn’t bring himself to step inside. Undeterred, the guards hooked him under the arms and unceremoniously shoved him inside, slamming the door behind him.

“Jean!” Marco yelled.  He stepped up to the small window set in the door, “It’s alright. I’ll speak to the King. There has to be something we can do.”

Jean nodded, throat too tight to speak.

They were interrupted by the sound of quick footsteps over the courtyard, “Sir! Your Grace!”

A man ran forward with a note clutched in his hand. Marco opened the crumpled piece of paper and his face went white.

“Marco? What is it?”

“It’s Hearthtree. They’re being raided.”

Jean knew the name, it was a village a half day’s ride away. Captain Bertholdt was away from the castle, inspecting a garrison on the other side of the duchy. He wouldn’t return for hours. Marco’s eyes flicked from Jean, to the messenger and back again. His lips disappeared into a thin line. If they waited until Bertholdt returned, it would be too late for the townspeople.

Marco had to go, there was no one else to lead the soldiers.

Jean clenched his free hand, nails digging into his palm, “Marco.” He swallowed hard, willing his voice not to shake. “They’re your people. They need you.” He forced a surety he didn’t feel into his tone, “I’ll be alright.”

Marco’s hand tightened around his own. Jean didn’t miss the look of gratitude that flashed over his pained face,“You won’t have to face the king alone. I’ll catch up, I swear it. ”

“I know you will,” Jean rasped, glad Marco couldn’t see how bad his knees were shaking.

Marco whirled on Levi. His voice was hard, and for once he sounded like a member of the royal family. “Nothing happens until I get there,” he ordered.

Levi almost looked uncomfortable, “Your Grace-”

“It’s the least his Majesty can do, considering the circumstances,” Marco interrupted. His voice was more scathing than Jean had ever heard before.

Levi frowned and let out a long breath through his nose, “I’ll do what I can.”  Jean knew that was the closest thing to a promise they’d get out of him.

Marco turned back to Jean, “I’ll come. I promise I will be there.” Marco gave his hand a final squeeze.

Letting go of him felt like Jean had come loose from the earth and was starting to drift. The air was full of shouts as both Levi and Marco’s men prepared to leave the castle.

Jean let himself sink down into the seat and turned away from the window. He didn’t think he could stand watching the castle and everyone in it grow smaller and smaller behind him.

 

* * *

 Annie spurred her horse up the column; she had to speak to Captain Levi. They couldn’t move very fast with the coach, and hadn't gone far down the road to the capitol by the time she caught up. Levi barely looked at her as she brought her horse up along side his.

“Is it true?” she asked, “There are Sinan ships off the coast?”

The lines on Levi’s forehead deepened, “Would I be here otherwise?”

Her fists tightened on the reigns, “But sir it doesn’t make any sense!”

“Of course it doesn’t make sense!” Levi snapped. His voice was a quiet hiss so the other soldiers couldn’t hear. “It doesn’t make a damn drop of sense for Nile to break the treaty. His country is in no shape for another war.” Levi shook his head and turned his attention back to the road ahead, “He’s more of a fool then we thought.”

“What’s going to happen to Jean?”

“You’re not a fool Annie, don’t act like it. The entire world is watching. You know the King can’t back down.”

“But it’s wrong! He can’t just do that! He’s a part of their family now they care about him-”

Levi froze her with a look, “That’s not your decision. It’s the King’s.”

Annie faltered, letting her horse drift back in the line.

There had been a time when she wanted nothing more than to go back to the Capitol, but these circumstances weren’t worth it.

* * *

 The column had stopped and made camp in a meadow off the road when the messenger came. His horse was foaming at the mouth and trembling, the rider had nearly ridden the poor thing to death. He galloped up to the lines near the officer’s tents. He threw himself off the animal’s back.

“I need to see Captain Levi! At once!”

Annie jumped to her feet, she knew that voice. “Armin?”

He looked exhausted, barely able to stand once he dismounted.

Levi approached, his pace quick despite several days in the saddle, “What’s happened?”

“The castle is under attack,” Armin panted.

There was an uproar among the surrounding soldiers and Levi had to call for quiet.

Armin sat on a camp stool that was brought over for him, “After the guards left to protect the village, a horde of Stohessians crept up on the castle, and scaled the outer wall. Killed most of the patrolling guards by stealth.”

Annie’s hands went over her mouth. “Captain Bertholdt?” The question was out of her mouth before she could stop it.

“He arrived back at the castle this afternoon. I was telling him what had happened this morning when-” Armin shook his head, “It all happened so quickly. When I left they’d made it inside the curtain wall. There’s another messenger out after Marco, but there were archers.” He placed a hand over a shallow cut on his arm, “I don’t know if he made it. Captain Bertholdt and the guards who stayed behind are protecting the keep, but I don’t know how long they are going to be able to hold out.”

Levi swore sharply, only hesitating a moment before calling out orders. They could not allow Jinae castle to be taken.  “We break camp and mount up now. The supply train and those needed to protect it will remain here. The rest of us will ride back to Jinae as fast as the horses can manage.” He turned back to his tent, his squire running for his armor.

Annie followed “What about the Prince?” The heavy carriage would slow them down considerably.

“He stays here, under guard. And you’ll stay here with him.”

“What?” Her voice was sharper than she’d intended.

Levi stopped and turned on her,“Protecting him is your duty, one that you’ve failed at before.” He glared down at her, his voice low and angry, “You lose him again, and you will suffer the consequences. Understand?” He whirled and left, not waiting for an answer.

* * *

 In less than an hour, most of the soldiers had remounted and gone thundering back down the road to Jinae. Annie felt the least she could do was go Jean and tell him what had happened. She dismissed the other guards around the coach so they could speak privately.

As she explained, Jean’s face went white, “Are they alright? Did they say anyone was hurt?”

“I don’t know. The keep is still holding out, but I don’t know for how long. Armin said a lot of the guards were ambushed.”

Jean pressed his face up against the window, “We have to do something!”

“No, we stay here. Levi and most of the soldiers are already on their way back.”

Jean shook his head and shouted, “Bullshit! We’re going to help!”

“They will take care of it,” her voice was rising to match his, “What more could the two of us do?”

“Something! Anything!” She heard a loud thump as he kicked the door in frustration, “We should be there, we should be there to protect them! How can you stay here? How can you stand it?”

She couldn’t stand it. The whole thing made her feel sick. They were all in danger, the soldiers who had stayed behind, Bertholdt, the children. She stormed away, Jean shouting insults at her back. The whole damn camp would hear him at this rate. But that was alright.  That meant they wouldn’t be paying attention when she went to saddle her horse and talk to Armin.

* * *

 Once the moon had risen, they crept back toward the locked carriage, leading a pair of horses. Jean looked at her, startled and suspicious as Annie unlocked the door.

“Come on,” she whispered harshly, “Do you want to come, or don’t you?”

He looked around fearfully for guards, “Are you crazy?”

Annie didn’t answer, shoving a sword belt into his hands.

Jean cursed, stepping out of the coach. He supposed it didn’t matter, he’d rather die fighting today than weeks from now in some dark dungeon. He jerked his chin, “They’ll notice the coach is empty. They aren’t stupid.”

“It won’t be empty.” Armin unfastened his cloak and reached a hand out for Jean’s.

Jean’s eyes widened as he realized what Armin meant, “You don’t look anything like me!”

Armin pushed the horse’s reins and his cloak into Jean’s hands.“I’ll keep my hood up and stay quiet. It’ll be too late by the time they notice.”

Jean pulled his cloak off and thrust it at Armin. “Why are you doing this?”

Armin fastened the cloak around his shoulders, not answering the question. The loose garment hid his small stature and shadowed his face. “You deserve to see that they’re alright,” he finally answered.

Jean nodded and swung Armin’s smaller cloak around his shoulders. “Get some sleep in there,” he said gruffly, “You look half dead.”

Armin smiled thinly, “I’ll try.” He hopped into the coach.

Annie locked the door behind him and handed him the keys through the window. “There. You and Captain Levi are the only ones who can unlock that door now. It should keep you safe.”

Armin nodded at them. His eyes were large and fearful, but not for himself. “Hurry.”

Jean and Anne led the horses away quietly. They had to wait until they were out of earshot before they mounted up. Before he could get in the saddle, Annie placed a hand on his shoulder. “Jean,”  she said, “If you use this to try to escape, I’ll hunt you down and kill you myself.”

He lifted his chin, and frowned. Marco and the others needed him, if he turned and ran then he deserved death. “Come on, let’s go.”

* * *

 The ride back to Jinae was a blur. They traveled through the night, pushing the horses as hard as they dared. The sun was rising as they approached the castle, and Annie pushed her weariness to the side; there was no time for it.

The outer gate stood open and they slowed the horses as they passed through. The ground was churned up from horse’s hooves and there was the sound or ringing steel further inside. They were about to pass through the second gate when a flash of movement attracted Annie’s eye. Realizing what she saw, she wrenched the horse to a stop and flung herself off of it’s back. She heard Jean rein in beside her.

“Bertholdt!”

The tall guard captain was slumped in the brush by the wall, five dead enemy soldiers around him. His eyes opened at the sound of her voice. The pit of her stomach felt hollow, there was so much blood.

“Annie?”

She knelt quickly at his side, “Here, let me help you-”

He shook his head, “No!” he said vehemently, “You have to... follow them.” he lifted a trembling arm and pointed toward a small gate in the wall that stood open, “They took her.They took Bianca.”

She was back on her feet in a moment, shock turning into anger. “We’ll go, we’ll go now.”

“Only one left I think,” he said raggedly, closing his eyes again. He jerked his chin toward one of the bodies, “Got the rest.” Annie clenched her jaw as she looked at him. There was too much blood. Nobody could live after losing so much.

But there was no time. She pushed the lump in her throat down, and ran back to her horse. “Come on, we have to hurry.”

* * *

 It was easy to tell which path the kidnapper had taken, there was flattened grass and broken shrubbery everywhere. The trail led away from the castle, across the road, and into the forest. The man who had Bianca had a head start, but but Annie and Jean were on horseback, and knew the land better.

As they followed, the tracks grew fresher. “We’re close now,” Annie whispered, sliding off her horse, “If we approach directly he’ll just threaten her and it’ll turn into a stand off. I’m going to circle around on foot. I’ll need time. You catch up to him and keep him distracted.  I’ll come from behind, If he he sees me coming-”

Jean nodded grimly, “I understand.”

Annie disappeared and Jean rode forward through the trees, letting his horse make plenty of noise.

He entered a clearing and the raider was there waiting. He was dressed in hard leather armor and he carried a short sword unsheathed in his hand. His other hand had Bianca by the hair. She looked dirty and scratched, but not seriously harmed. ‘Stop right there,” the man threatened.

Jean lifted his hands and let the reigns drop down out of his reach, “Easy there. No one has to get hurt. I just want the girl.”

The raider tightened his grip on Bianca’s hair. She grimaced, but didn’t cry out. “I don’t think you’re in any shape to bargain. Get off your horse. Now.”

Jean’s temper flared, he’d gut the piece of shit where he stood. Jean threw himself off the horse’s back and drew his sword in a flash, but the raider pressed his blade close to Bianca’s neck.

“Drop the sword or she dies.”

“Don’t!” Bianca yelled, “If you do he’ll just kill both of us-”

The man shook her by the hair and she cried out in pain, “Shut up brat!”

Jean snarled, itching to attack, but he didn't dare.

“I said drop it!”

Jean cursed and let his sword fall to the forest floor.

Now that Jean was weaponless, the man took his sword away from Bianca’s neck.“Now move away from the horse.”

Jean glanced to the side, he couldn’t see Annie anywhere. If the raider got Bianca on the horse, they’d never see her again.

He lifted his hands, “Alright, just-” He slipped a dagger out of his sleeve, pricking the horse’s rump with the point. It shied, knocking him on the ground before charging off into the woods.

“Bastard, you'll pay for that,” the kidnapper growled. He shoved Bianca onto the ground and lifted his sword. Jean raised his arm instinctively, but there was no way his bare arm could stop the blow. He could only hope that he'd given Annie the time she needed.

“No!”

Bianca snatched Jean’s fallen sword from the ground, she lunged and cut at the back of the man’s leg. She wasn't strong enough to get through the man’s leather armor, but it was enough to distract him. He turned his attention from Jean and slid his sword murderously sideways.

Bianca’s arm shot out, the move nearly automatic after months of practice. She knocked the hilt of the sword up with her hand, and twisted her body away from the strike. The cut meant for her neck glanced off her cheek instead. She fell back to the dirt and the man stood over her, raising his bloodied sword a second time, murder in his eyes.

Jean lurched forward, but there was no way he could get there in time.

Annie slid out of the trees like a mountain cat, her blade flashing in the sun. The sword moved so fast that the air whistled around it. The barbarian was dead before he hit the forest floor.

Bianca pushed herself up with one hand and sobbed out a breath. Jean scrambled toward her through the leaves, gently putting his hands on her. “Bee? are you alright are you hurt?”

The girl was shaking and started to cry. The long cut along her cheek was bleeding. “I- I’m not-”  She whimpered and cradled her right hand close to her chest. Jean winced, it looked like hitting the sword to turn it aside had broken a few of her fingers. 

She was alive. She was safe. Annie knelt on her other side and they held her between them. Jean’s vision blurred. He knew he should at least try not to cry, for Bianca’s sake, but he couldn’t help it.

He heard Annie take a ragged breath. “That’s my girl,” Annie choked, “That’s my brave girl.”

* * *

The uproar when Annie and Jean returned with Bianca was astounding.

After they'd gone into the woods, The enemy soldiers had been completely defeated by the Royal troops. They'd refused to surrender, and none of them would live to return to their country. 

Bianca wouldn’t let go of her, so Annie stayed with her while a doctor stitched her cheek and examined her hand.

Jean on the other hand, was quickly hustled into the castle and Captain Levi’s presence. As they moved through the yard and then the castle, he looked around frantically. He didn’t see Marco or any of the other soldiers that had gone to defend the village.  He was physically and emotionally exhausted, and as a consequence started shouting the moment he was in the same room as Levi. “What happened to the other soldiers? Where’s Marco?”

Levi looked at him balefully, but answered. “They successfully defended the village. There weren't many raiders there. It was a distraction to get most of the troops out of the castle. They are returning, but they have to go slowly.”

Jean immediately clued in to the fact that Levi wasn't telling him everything. A wave of dread rose up inside of him,  “Tell me what happened! I have to know!”

“It's not what you think, but he was injured. A horse went down on top of him and his leg was crushed.”

Jean felt a frantic energy try to take hold, "I have to go, I have to see him!” He turned to rush back down the steps, but a pair of guards stood in his way.

“No,” Levi said firmly, his own temper close to breaking, “ _You_ are staying under lock and key until the King gets here to sort out this mess.”

Normally Jean would have tried to force his way past, but he was so drained, the most he could do was muster his nastiest glare to throw at the Captain before being herded down the hall.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy to finally post this chapter. I've had a rough draft of it for MONTHS. Thank you so much to all my readers, the ones who just found it AND those of you who have been reading for a long time and leave comments all the time! You guys warm my heart!!!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My laptop is misbehaving, so updating this from my phone. Sorry for any errors I missed, I'll look this over again when I have a computer.

The barracks of Jinae castle were quiet after the hours of endless fighting. Annie slumped down onto her bed, letting her dirty boots hang off the edge. She threw an arm up over her eyes to block out the light.

Bianca had gone up to her rooms with Petra. Annie had held her hand while the doctor splinted her fingers, stitched the gash in her cheek, and then gave her a tonic to help her sleep. Jean was being confined in the castle and the rumor was that the King was coming up from the capitol to deal with the matter personally.

She wasn't sure how long shes'd slept when she was woken by knocking at her door. A weary looking soldier without his uniform stood in her doorway.

“Annie? The Captain’s asking for you.”

Annie squeezed her eyes closed and sighed. Levi was going to rake her over the coals for what she’d done. She’d hoped the chaos would prevent him from disciplining her for at least a day, but apparently she was out of luck.

She pulled herself to her feet and followed him down the hall, her feet dragging. She paused in confusion as he turned up the staircase instead of downstairs and out toward the castle.

He glanced back, brow furrowed, “Please hurry. I don't know how long he’s going to stay awake-”

Annie’s heart jumped into her throat, “Bertholdt!”

She pushed past the soldier and up the stairs, flinging open the door to his room so hard it banged into the wall. The sun had gone down hours ago, and a single candle flickered on the bed stand.

“Annie?”

She came forward, sitting down in a chair beside the bed. Bertholdt’s eyes cracked open and then closed again. “Is Bianca safe?”

“We got her. She’s safe but- she got hurt.” Her shoulders slumped, “If I’d been quicker-”

“Annie.” Bertholdt’s voice was low and scratchy. “She’d be gone or dead if it weren’t for you.”

He wheezed as his breath came in and out. Annie tentatively touched the side of his face. “I thought you were dead.” She said quietly, “There was so much blood.”

Bertoldt laughed weakly, “Not all of it was mine you know,” he grimaced. “Doctor patched me up but,” he sighed, “Well we’ll just have to see how my luck holds out.”

Annie brushed her thumb over his cheek. There were dark shadows under his eyes and his forehead was hot to the touch. She’d seen how severe his wounds had been. He was still a long way from safety, but she couldn’t stop the feeling of relief welling up in her chest. Annie swallowed and stood, turning her face away. She busied herself dampening a cloth with water, discreetly blotting her cheek with her sleeve. Letting out a shaky breath, she returned to the chair beside Bertholdt’s bed, placing the cloth on his brow.

Bertholdt’s lips curled up in a smile, “Didn’t think you were the nurturing type.”

“Stop talking,” Annie grumbled, her hands gentle despite her disgruntled tone. “You need to rest.”

* * *

Jean braced himself as the door to Marco’s study opened.  He lifted his chin and straightened his back before going inside. King Erwin sat behind Marco’s desk and Jean felt an intense pang of irritation.

For two weeks now, they’d kept him locked in one of the tower rooms. Levi didn’t trust him in the least, and since Marco was indisposed there was no one to oppose him. Jean was a mix of anger and nerves. Petra had brought the children to visit him, but despite his numerous requests they’d refused to let him out to see Marco.

Jean stopped in front of the desk and clenched his jaw, biting back the urge to yell. He didn’t bother bowing, he was in too much trouble for one more offense to make things worse. He spied Armin in the corner. He wouldn’t meet Jean’s eyes and his expression was completely blank.

Unphased by his rudeness, Erwin folded his hands, resting them on the dark wood. “We’ve been in communication with your Uncle. It seems the Sinan ships were pirated. The Stohessians used them as a distraction to move our army south.” Jean suppressed a groan. Uncle Nile must be extremely embarrassed. At least Erwin had no reason to believe he was lying about admitting to something like that. Erwin continued speaking, “Considering the circumstances, we have determined that the treaty was not broken.”

Jean felt a wash of relief that he was too tired to hide, but it was short lived.

“However,” the King continued, “There is still the matter of your escape.” He paused deliberately, “Rather, your second escape.”

Jean’s temper got the better of him and he couldn’t stay quiet. “I came to help. I wasn’t going to cower in a cage while they burned the castle down.”

Erwin held up a hand and Jean went quiet. “What I should do,” Erwin said, “Is drag you back to the Capitol and keep you locked up where you won’t cause any more trouble.” Erwin sighed slightly, “However, you defended a member of the royal family with your life. Annie has told us that if it weren’t for you the girl would be lost or dead.”

Jean bristled, “Anyone else would have done the same.”

“I think you overestimate the morality of the average prisoner,” Erwin said lightly.  “Taking your actions into consideration, We’ve made a decision.” He picked up a document with his seal attached to it. He handed it to Armin who brought it over the Jean. Armin kept his head bowed, and Jean was tempted to kick him in the shins for being so infuriating. Jean tentatively took the paper and he began to read.

_In recognition for your services to the Royal Family of the Kingdom of Shiganshina…._

Jean read the document in disbelief, and immediately read it again, not trusting his comprehension. “Is this, is this real?”

“It is.” There was a slight smile on Erwin’s lips, “To be quite honest, you’re more trouble than you’re worth.”

Jean looked again at the bottom of the page.

_Therefore, Prince Jean Kirstein is no longer considered a prisoner of the Kingdom of Shiganshina._

Jean’s hands started to shake. He swallowed, trying to wet his dry throat, “This means I can go?”

“Yes.” Armin was the one who answered him, his smile beaming.

Jean’s knees buckled and he held on to the back of a chair to stop himself from sinking to the floor. His eyes stung and a tear rolled down his cheek before he could compose himself. It didn’t seem real. He was free. He could go home.

He straightened up suddenly, stomach twisting, “What about Marco?”

Erwin looked down at his folded hands. “Marco’s already been told. He was supportive of the idea.”

“He was?” Jean stammered, “But, we’re married,” he gestured with the document in his hand, “This doesn’t change that.”

Erwin shrugged lightly, “I’m sure your Uncle can find a member of the clergy in Sina willing to annul it for you.” He pulled another document toward himself and dipped his pen into an inkwell. “Marco and I have discussed it. He won’t fight you on the matter.” He waved his hand in dismissal.

Jean left the room in a daze. He wandered the halls of the castle aimlessly, lost in thought. He stared at the piece of paper clutched in his hands. He could go home again. See his Aunt and Uncle, and his cousins. He could return to the palace he’d grown up in. He could leave this wretched old drafty castle for his own palace. It was everything he’d dreamed of.

And yet, he couldn’t help thinking of all the things he was leaving behind.  He wouldn’t see how Kat flourished at court. He wouldn’t be there to listen to Dante excitedly babble about the latest book he’d read. He wouldn’t be there to see Bianca grow big enough to trounce him at fencing one day.

And Marco.

The pressure in Jean’s chest wound tighter at the thought. They’d never ride together again. They’d never bicker about how much money Jean spent, or where Jean had put his books and papers. After weeks of growing accustomed to sharing their space, they’d never share the same bed again. Never feel the strong touch of his hands or admire the way he blushed at the slightest provocation. He’d never hear his laugh again, see his smile, or hear the tender way Marco said his name.

He had to say goodbye to all of it.

* * *

 A cool breeze blew through the slightly open window, the chill felt good on the back of Marco’s neck. His leg throbbed, and he wanted so badly to reach for the medicine on his nightstand that would let him drift to sleep. He couldn’t though, not yet. He needed to be awake and alert for what was coming. There was a gentle tap on the door and he felt the dread gather in his gut. “Come in.”

The door opened slowly, and Marco couldn’t help the smile that came to his face when Jean carefully stepped into the room. When he saw Marco, his face went pale and he hurried to his side. Jean sat gingerly on the edge of the bed and took his hand, “They wouldn’t let me see you.”  His other hand went to Marco’s cheek, “You look awful.”

“I feel awful.”

“How’s your leg? What does the doctor say?” Jean asked anxiously.

 Marco grimaced as the mattress shifted, “It should heal strait, but I’m going to be stuck in bed for a while.”

“Didn’t he give you something for the pain?”

Marco ignored the question and forced a smile, “The King told me your good news.”

Jean’s lips disappeared into a thin line and his gaze dropped to the blanket. “Yes. He says I’m free to go.”

Marco squeezed their joined hands. “I’m happy for you. Really, I am,” he said quietly. He turned his gaze out the window. He had to remain calm and not make this harder for Jean than it already was. “We’ve tried to make you feel at home here, but you never would have been content without your freedom.”  He swallowed heavily and then forced himself to ask, “When are you  returning to Sina?”

The silence stretched between them. He wanted to say something, but knew if he opened his mouth his composure would break.

“Marco.”

The landscape outside the window started to blur.

“Marco, listen to me. I want to stay.”

Marco’s breath came out in a ragged rush and he turned away from the window, “What?”

Jean lifted his chin, “Erwin said I’m free to go where I want,” he swallowed hard and looked Marco in the eyes, “And I want to stay. I don’t want to leave the children. I don’t want to leave you,” his voice dropped to a whisper, “I want to stay.”Jean’s cheeks burned red and his eyes went to the floor again. “Unless you don’t want that,” he said quickly. “I’m just saying that’s what I want. I’m still going to go home and visit, but-”

Marco cut him off by pulling him into an embrace. “Oh Jean.” He pressed his face against Jean’s shoulder and felt the other man’s arms wrap around him. “That makes me so glad, I’m so happy.”

Jean leaned in, pressing his nose in Marco’s hair. “I couldn’t leave. I love you all too much.”

* * *

 Levi frowned as Erwin finished the letter he was writing and Armin tucked it into a case. “You knew what he would do, didn’t you?”

Erwin shrugged, “I didn’t anticipate the two of them growing attached to one another, but it certainly turned out to be useful.”

Levi crossed his arms, leaning his hip against the desk, “You don’t think he’s going to cause even more trouble now that he’s loose?”

Erwin looked up at him thoughtfully, “I think, Prince Jean would do everything in his power to prevent war between our countries. He has family on both sides of the border after all.”

Levi snorted, “Of course he will.”

* * *

 The night before the King and the royal army were set to leave, Annie stood at attention in the office Levi had commandeered. The man looked twice as cross as usual, and Annie’s nails dug into her palm behind her back.

Levi crossed his arms over his chest, “Lucky for you, since Erwin’s decided Prince Jean’s actions were legitimate, that saves me from having to charge one of my best soldiers with dereliction of duty.” He rubbed his temple, “I can’t reward you for your actions either. Yes you save the life of a member of the royal family but you also disobeyed a direct order.” He took a long sip from his teacup. It was delicate and painted, not at all like the plain mug he used in his own office, “Shit Leonhardt, what am I supposed to do with you?”

Before he could say anything more, Annie straightened her spine. “Sir, I resign.”

Levi’s eyebrows lowered, “What?”

“I disobeyed orders, and I’m resigning.”

Levi blinked slowly, “Annie, you are one of the best knights in the kingdom. What are you going to do? Become the country's smallest and angriest blacksmith?”

“I’ve been offered a position as the Duke's Master at arms, and I accepted.”

Levi huffed, “I'm not going to pretend that this makes any kind of sense but," He shrugged irritably, "I can't exactly stop you if you want to freeze your ass off up here for the rest of your life."

"I like it here," she said, surprising both of them. 

Levi's attention turned back to his teacup and she saluted before turning toward the door.

“Leonhardt.”

She paused and turned back.

“Come south for the tournaments. Someone besides me has to keep knocking Mikasa into the dirt so she doesn’t get full of herself."

* * *

**A Year Later**

Jean raced ahead of the column as the castle came into view, giving Goliath his head. The chilly autumn wind bit into his cheeks, turning them red. The castle was just as he remembered it, a giant monolith on the hill. The forest stretching behind it was colored gold, orange, and red. He slowed as they passed through the first gate, guards and servants stepping back to let him through and calling out greetings.

He slowed to a walk as he passed by the training yard. A group of veteran soldiers were sparring. It was easy to find Bertholdt, head and shoulders taller than anyone else in the castle. Unsurprisingly, Annie was beside him

He called out to them and they turned and gave him a wave. There was a prominent curve to Annie’s belly and Jean almost fell off his horse at the sight of it. Her lips turned up in a smug grin as she turned back around, an arm reaching to snake around Bertholdt’s waist.

When he reached the keep, he swung down from Goliath’s back, and a chorus of happy squeals came toward him as Bianca and Dante tackled him in a hug.

Bianca looked up at him with a scowl, “You’re late!”

Jean cupped her chin, brushing his thumb over the scar on her cheek, “I beat the snow here didn’t I?” He clucked his tongue, tousling Dante’s hair, “The two of you are growing like weeds.” They giggled. “Let’s go inside, it’s freezing.”

Stepping into the great hall, he felt a strange echo of when he’d first come here. Then it had felt cavernous and bleak. Now, the great hall was still grand, but welcoming. A fire crackled in the fireplace that took up almost an entire wall, and the afternoon sun coming through the stained glass windows cast pools of color on the floor.

“Welcome home.”

Jean craned his head back and looked up the stairs, a grin spreading over his face. Marco stood beaming at the top of the stairs. He held the banister with one hand, and his cane in the other. Jean dashed up the stairs two at a time and wrapped him up in an embrace. They kissed slowly, and Jean hands wound around the back of Marco’s neck.

A chorus of disgusted noises came from the children.

They pulled apart and Jean rolled his eyes. He eyed the cane with a worried look. “Feeling alright?”

Marco nodded, “It still aches when it gets cold.”

Marco turned and they walked sedately down the hall, arm in arm. “Next winter,” Jean said, “We’re going to stay at my Palace in Sina, where it  isn’t so God forsakenly cold.”

Marco smiled, “I’d like that.”

“We can bring Kat along, but between the two of us we’ll probably bring back a wagon full of clothes and shoes. I spent a few days in the capitol on my way here and she’s very keen on the idea.”

“How is she?”

“Turning heads everywhere she goes. When she comes of age she’s going to have to fight suitors off with a stick.”

Marco scowled and Jean laughed, pressing a kiss against his cheek.

* * *

 Later that night, they sat on the plush chaise in front of the fireplace in their room. They were sated from dinner, basking in each other’s company. Marco had one of Jean’s feet in his lap and he traced the embroidery on his shoe with a finger. “I like the high heel,” Marco said.

Jean smirked, setting his wine glass down on the table, “I thought you might.”

Marco rubbed circles around his ankle over the soft material of his stockings. Jean sighed, leaning back against the arm of the chaise. “That feels nice. That trip is exhausting.”

“You’re not too tired I hope?” Marco asked.

Jean flicked his feet, letting his shoes fall to the floor, “Oh come here already.” He leaned up and wrapped his arms around Marco’s neck, “I missed you so much.” He fell back against the cushions, pulling Marco down with him.

Marco kept the pace slow and Jean didn’t have the energy to rush him. His hands moved slowly, fingers trailing against every familiar curve and angle. Marco’s lips and tongue were hot against his neck and Jean craned his head back as teeth grazed his collar bone. If he were less tired, he would have been embarrassed by the groan that built in his throat as Marco’s hand unfastened his pants and reached inside. His hand encircled him and Jean exhaled harshly. “Oh God Marco.” He grabbed him by the hair, pulling him back up for a kiss. Jean shivered, pressed between Marco’s body and the cushions. He shook his head and tugged on Marco’s hair, “I’m going to- I can’t-”

Marco’s voice was low, and it made Jean squirm, “I know love.” He drew Jean’s earlobe into his mouth and nibbled it, “Finish for me?”

“Shit,” Jean let himself fall over the edge, gasping for breath. He shivered and sobbed into Marco’s shoulder.

Jean’s eyelids were drooping, but he reached for Marco’s belt. Marco caught his hands and moved them away. Jean made a sound of protest, but Marco shook his head, “In the morning.” Jean felt the curl of a smile against his cheek, “ At this rate you’ll fall asleep halfway through and I’ll lose my mind.”

Maybe he had a point. Jean curled up against Marco’s chest with a satisfied hum. He closed his eyes, turning his head to press one more kiss against Marco’s neck before sleep overcame him.

“It’s good to be home,” he whispered.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my God I finally did it. Thank you so much to all my readers, there are times where I would have given up on this story if it weren't for your encouragement. But the boys got their happy ending and my work here is done.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr at [Deexes](http://deexes.tumblr.com/)


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